Distress
by summersquares
Summary: Gibbs and Tony pay the price of a difficult case, together. First-time fic. Slash.
1. Chapter 1: What Tony Knew

A/N: So I have never written for NCIS before and have never written slash before. What the hell have I been doing with my time? (Just joking.) In any case, having never written for this fandom before, I don't even know if anyone will read it, but writing it was a wonderful, if illicit, diversion the last two hectic days. I hope it is okay. I am not marking it complete because I am hoping that I can manage to get them together for good, but well, as I said, I'm new to this and am not quite sure what I am capable of yet. Happy Thanksgiving. SS 11/21/13

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"You will make all kinds of mistakes; but as long as you are generous and true and  
also fierce you cannot hurt the world or even seriously distress her." Winston Churchill

**TJ&LJG**

Cases involving kids were hard on everyone. This was probably true on almost any law enforcement team in the world, just like a hurt child is excruciating to most teachers. Teachers, cops...people who chose these professions, among others, would be attuned to such pain.

Abby barricaded herself in her lab, letting her surroundings, certain activity, and the inanimate regard of her Artiodactylan muse, remind her of who she was and would remain.

Ducky retreated into memory and the reassuring recitation of narrative, rebuilding the world of reason and hope around him brick by brick.

Kate probably had her own way, but she hadn't been with the team long enough for them to know.

Tony, in the case of a child's death, would seek oblivion in the sweet touch of another's body, skin on skin, the rush and hum and the late night departure. The get-away. Clean, with everything good left behind and no disappointment to come. He loved going home in the dark, replete, the cool air on his face as he parked and went up to his apartment to his empty bed with its clean sheets. For Tony, it was almost worse—and he felt no small amount of shame for this—when the child was abused or neglected. Those cases were followed by an obscenely dark night, despair having its way and clawing a fresh channel out of his body. These nights are not something he has shared with anyone ever. _Except maybe Gibbs,_ he thought, _Maybe Gibbs. Someday._

Gibbs. Well, Gibbs.

**TJ&LJG**

It began with a fight and ended with an abduction, the father trying to make the mother pay but he got it wrong, even more wrong than it would have been already with so little concern for what is best for a child. He abducted the wrong kid, or at least his buddy did, and by the time it all unraveled, both men were locked up angry and protesting, and the poor boy who had spent a night fearing the worst, was returned to his own father. But _this_ father had been hard to find, and the mother had died years ago, and the nanny was the one poking Tony in the chest, demanding that he find the boy.

Standing in the Commander's office after having returned the 9 year-old to his nanny, Gibbs had cause to wonder if maybe he should have left Tony behind for the conclusion. The signs of luxurious neglect were like a red flag to the bulls in Tony's heart and his running commentary and wisecracking irreverence had a cruel edge and hid his fury badly. Gibbs wrapped up quickly, his coolness the only sign of his own contempt for such an ungrateful parent. He turned and made his way to the door, expecting Tony to follow, but even before he heard the harsh tenor of Tony's voice, he realized his mistake.

"You should spend time with your son." Not what Tony had planned to say but no plan survived first contact with the enemy.

"_Excuse _me?"

Gibbs was once again too slow to stop Tony and the younger man stepped one aggressive foot forward and barked, "I will, if you spend time with him. _That's_ what he needs."

The father, an older man and a powerful one, unused to being challenged, looked at Gibbs. "Get him out of here."

The three men stood in a tense triangle, deadlocked. Gibbs jerked his head toward the door. _Let's go._ Tony's mouth set in sullen refusal. The father, whose face showed definite signs of fatigue—_at least one point in his favor_, Gibbs thought—waited impatiently.

Tony's green eyes glittered_, _shiny with anger, maybe tears, and caught Gibbs'. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed and Gibbs waited for the younger man to give in rather than repeat the order. Tony was right and that was worth pissing the asshole off for ten more seconds.

"_Please_." Tony, to Gibbs.

And now Gibbs was angry. But Tony held his gaze. Gibbs could hear their loud breathing. All three of them now, angry or irritated or scared.

But still the green eyes held his, didn't back down. And the shine in them was old, from old pain, but it was also young, the sheen of a boy's tears. Gibbs couldn't look away. Couldn't refuse. Wouldn't, anyway. Tony would pay the price, just like he would. But that was for later.

As if it was his idea, Gibbs moved back into the room, got closer to the father than before and rasped out,

"Do you remember when he was a baby?"

The voice Gibbs used as an interrogator got a quick response even here, now.

"Of course I do."

"Do you remember when you kissed him, on the neck, in the folds of baby fat on his belly, on his little feet, on his soft hair? Remember what it smelled like, what _he_ smelled like?" More words than Gibbs had spoken on some weekend days.

"Wha—" Outrage swelling.

"Do you _remember_?" Implacable.

"Yes." Truculent but truthful, Gibbs judged.

"He still smells like that. You can still kiss him, protect him." Gibbs met the man's eyes, let him see the emptiness in his own. "I can't." Gibbs saw _something _in the man's eyes, not sure what but something. It would have to be enough. He jerked his head toward the door again. _Not fucking around now, Tony._

Tony flicked one more angry glance at the boy's father and followed Gibbs out.

"Boss—"

"Not now, DiNozzo."

When they got to the car, Tony got in quickly, knowing that if he wasn't in by the time Gibbs tore out of the parking lot, he would be left behind. Over the roar of the engine, the wind skipping along the open windows, and the thumping of his heart, Tony tried again.

"Boss—"

"NOT NOW, DiNozzo!" Gibbs yell was harsh and final. Even so, Tony could hear the crack in it, the downward progression from his earlier utterance palpable. Tony wondered if they would get home in time. _In time for what?_

They didn't get home in time. Gibbs swung into his driveway, parked, turned of the engine with an aggressive flick of his wrist. But he didn't move. He knew he didn't have time. Tony's presence faded from his awareness. He leaned his head back against the seat, so far back that his body bowed a little and if his eyes were still open, he would be looking straight up toward the sky. Praying, maybe. But his eyes were closed, closed so that he could see the images of his little girl, the painful barrage of memory. It felt like he remembered every time he held her, dressed her, wiped her face, lifted her, held her hand, kissed her. And Shannon. _No not Shannon too_. And the smell and sound and feel of Kelly came back, pushing the loss of Shannon off for another day. He shook and cried until it was over.

Tony didn't recognize the harsh grunting sounds for crying at first, but the water on Gibbs face gave it away. Sitting in the car like this, close to Gibbs and turned toward him, he wondered what he should do. The man shivered as if freezing and his jaw was locked down tight. Tony reached a hand out...to...to..._what?_ Stroke Gibbs' face or rub his shoulder? Like he would with a woman? Gibbs would break his hand. The percussive sounds were painful to listen to and Tony had to do _something_. He reached out and took one of Gibbs' hands in his. Where it had been lying, pressed white against the other man's leg, it now latched on to Tony's, so hard it hurt, it _really fucking hurt_. Tony ignored this and just held on, his eyes never leaving Gibbs' tortured profile, tears now streaming down the sides of his face and neck.

After some time, Gibbs quieted. Muscles released, he slumped back into the seat. There was a long moment filled only with the sound of their breathing, their hands gripping one another. Suddenly, Gibbs released Tony's hand and got out of the car, the door slamming loud in the late afternoon drone of the quiet neighborhood. Gibbs moved fast, Tony knew that, but he was scrambling to get out of the car to follow. He thought Gibbs might try to stop him but the other man didn't seem to even register his presence. By the time that Tony caught up with him, Gibbs was in the kitchen, face dry—_when did that happen?—_and drinking a glass of water.

"You never drink water."

Gibbs squinted at Tony around the glass titled against his face.

"I won't be as hung over tomorrow," he said when he finished.

Tony didn't know why he was trying to stop him. God knows he was planning on drinking when he got home later. "Gibbs—"

"You got a better idea, DiNozzo?" Gibbs said, hinting at the hypocrisy.

Tony's eyes held Gibbs' as long as he could, but eventually he shifted away from the piercing blue gaze. Gibbs placed the empty glass on the counter carefully and turned just as carefully, the movements of a man who knew he was slightly impaired. His pale face and the small shake in his hands was consistent with mild shock, in Tony's experience, and the care and calculation made it clear that the older man had been through this before. Gibbs walked by Tony to cross into the living room without touching him. The late afternoon light was deepening to twilight.

"Taking a shower to warm up. I'm fine, Tony."

The use of his given name was a surprise and Tony's hand shot out, hot against the cool skin of Gibbs' forearm. Gibbs paused, glancing over. His face gave nothing away, but his eyebrow quirked and he repeated hoarsely, "You got a better idea?" And then, when Tony didn't speak, just held him in place, clearly trying to think what to say, Gibbs asked, "What do _you_ do?"

This surprised a harsh bark of laughter from Tony. "I have sex. That's always my answer."

Gibbs shook his hand off and strode through the door to the stairs. "You wanna have sex with me, DiNozzo?" Rhetorical but not sarcastic. He looked back to find Tony leaning in the kitchen doorway. What Gibbs said next was heavy, heavy with all the hours still before him drinking and remembering and forgetting, heavy with the tears that were probably not finished, heavy like a body without life is heavy.

"See you tomorrow." And marched up the stairs like a marine. A tired one, but a marine nonetheless.

**TJ&LJG**

If Gibbs was surprised to see Tony sitting on the edge of the bed when he came out of the bathroom, it didn't show. And Tony wasn't looking at him anyway. He had turned on a small light next to the bed and Gibbs could see that his body was slumped forward, elbows on knees.

"Tony." Gibbs' voice was low, questioning.

Tony straightened and looked up at the older man.

"Yeah?" Like it wasn't unusual for him to be where he was.

Gibbs remembered suddenly that his own forced participation earlier was because of Tony's own emotional baggage and indeed, the low light showed the faint lines of pain etched into the young man's face. Gibbs walked and stood closer to the bed he didn't sleep in, white towel wrapped around his waist.

"What are you—" Before Gibbs could finish his question, Tony reached out and the towel fell on the floor at his feet. His hand, hot against the cool damp skin of Gibbs' ass, pulled Gibbs forward between his parted legs and his forehead came to rest against Gibbs' stomach even as he slid off the edge of the bed to land on his knees.

Feeling warm breath and lips nuzzling into the soft skin of his inner thigh, the wet stroke of a tongue in the seam of his leg, Gibbs breathed out on a moan. His hands sought purchase and balance against Tony's shoulders, still covered in smooth cotton, and then one slipped behind Tony's head involuntarily to grip and hold, and a good thing too, because the full flush of arousal, his cock suddenly and completely hard, made him dizzy, and_ he couldn't think but really needed to think but jesus Tony was about to—_

"_Goddamn_! Ah, fuck, Tony, oh fuck oh jesus oh fuck don't stop don't stop don't stop—" Gibbs wasn't sure if he said this out loud or not, but then it didn't matter because the heat from one of Tony's hands stroking down his ass and the other reaching up from below to hold and roll his balls not to mention the heat and tight suction of his _fucking_ mouth combined to take him far far away, somewhere really really good with only the feel of the other man against him, safe with him. And Tony...Tony was down low in his own need, sucking deep and long and moaning and hell, he needed it, _needed_ it. Him.

Gibbs' first flood of words had turned to grunts and moans and in the end, he was completely silent when he came, body bowing in a small parody of his earlier emotional outpouring in the car. Tony, so turned on that he was on the fucking edge of coming even though he still had his jeans on, spared a thought for the small circles Gibbs was making on the edge of his jaw, the older man's thumb loose and gentle despite the heavy breathing and now strong hands were pushing and pulling him up, up, up and his shirt too up and off. Gibbs hands were rough and they seemed to _scrape_ against his chest, his belly, his nipples and the small pain ratcheted Tony's arousal even higher. Someone unbuttoned Tony's pants and pushed them down but Tony knew that it was his own body standing and then bending over to slip off his shoes and socks, his stiff cock jutting and getting in his way and then he was falling over, pushed onto the bed by Gibbs. Gibbs crawled onto the bed, over Tony and then, then, Tony felt the hand on his cock, _squeezing_ and high urgent sounds came from his own mouth. The hand on his cock released and stroked a palm up his length and then rotated slightly so that fingers could touch and stroke down low even as the pressure on his cock was relentless. And that was all, just that, barely two strokes and he seized, ecstasy spearing through him and driving like a spike up and out of his body, into the shirt that Gibbs pressed around him.

Afraid that this was all, that Gibbs would make him leave, Tony turned into Gibbs, clutching, nose and eyes and lips pressed against the warm, salty skin of his neck. When Tony felt the small movement of Gibbs' fingertips moving gently at the base of his neck, he relaxed and let his breath calm, realized at some point that their breathing had synchronized. And while other parts of their bodies shifted a little here and there to get comfortable, Tony kept his face pressed tight against Gibbs, proof against change. When Gibbs finally pushed harder, tried to move and Tony made a small sound of objection, Gibbs gave him a low laugh.

"Move, DiNozzo. I'm cold." This seemed promising so Tony risked it, shifting so that Gibbs turn out the light, slip under the covers to settle on his side. Tony joined him, and they ended up face to face but not actually touching.

"This is better than drinking myself into oblivion?" Gibbs tried.

Tony shrugged and Gibbs could feel it better than he could see it.

"Tony..." Gibbs made his voice stern.

"You gonna freak out?" He blurted out his fear.

"Do you do this a lot? Have I...missed something? All those women really men?"

"No." Gibbs could make out Tony's features in the dark now that his eyes had adjusted: the hard masculine planes, adam's apple, the rough cheeks. He'd never been with a man, never really thought about it. He could smell Tony's sweat, familiar from time spent together on the road, in the field. He realized with surprise that he was hardening again, that they had only just begun. "No, not often, but sex is sex." Tony reached out a stroked a finger up Gibbs' cock, a flash of white and a satisfied smirk when he found the other man warm and hard. _I want to feel that pressed against me._ Tony let his hips roll until his own cock rubbed against Gibbs'. Gibbs eyes and mouth pressed shut and Tony was even turned on by the startled rush of air through the other man's nose.

"Just let me—" Tony gave in, stopped worrying that Gibbs would push him away—_he either would or he wouldn't—_and just made Gibbs feel good.

"_Fuck," _the other man whispered in dazed disbelief. "Tony—"

"I'll be gone by morning, Gibbs. It's just—" _Sex. _He couldn't make himself finish the sentence he whispered into Gibbs' ear. Gibbs' body shuddered and Tony's blood sang.

Tony would have smiled, but he was too busy nipping at Gibbs' mouth until finally, the older man's hand threaded hard into Tony's hair and leaned in from above, hard and uncompromising, so that it hurt, the brutal kiss. And now _Tony_ shuddered and let Gibbs take him all the way under.

**TJ&LJG**

Tony's internal Don't-Ever-Stay-the-Night alarm clock woke him up at 1 am, rousing him out of his sated doze. He sat up slowly, slipping his legs out from under the covers but as he stood, he felt the bed shift as Gibbs too, rose. The two men dressed together in the dark, Tony grabbing his balled up dress shirt, ready to go home shirtless, but Gibbs opened a drawer, tossed him an NCIS t-shirt, indistinguishable from his own but for the smell of Gibbs.

They didn't touch again, and at the bottom of the stairs they parted. Tony headed for the door and Gibbs for the basement. When Tony turned back, he saw that Gibbs had paused at the head of the stairs. He hadn't yet flicked on the light so it was hard to make out any expression.

"Night, Gibbs." It was all Tony could think of.

Gibbs didn't stoop to small talk and with a muttered "Yep," and a indecipherable wave of his hand in the early morning gloom, Tony was left listening to the creak of the old pine boards beneath Gibbs' bare feet.


	2. Chapter 2: What Gibbs Knew

A/N: Well, you should all feel vindicated. I am obsessed with _your_ show, which is fast becoming _my_ show. And Tony and Gibbs of course. I feel the weight of the same Imposter Syndrome I had in grad school or when I first get to my next new job or when I started writing...the overwhelming feeling that I don't have any right to be there, do this, write down the story in my head. Like I am trespassing. Who's to say that I can write about Tony and Gibbs in a way that seems right? Perhaps the literary police will come to fine me. But I can't help it and wanted to think more, write more about them. Thanks for reading. SSquares 12/1/13

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Rule 12 was real. It had been broken before, would be broken again, but that didn't matter. Rules were made to be followed _as if_ they would never be broken, even after they were. That was the only way to go on. Gibbs would never have sought Tony out to end his own pain. For that matter, he didn't seek Tony out when the other man was in pain; he respected a man's right to his own pain, his own self determination, too much to do that. That case with the German bomb maker made Tony aware of Gibbs' very real belief that one's pain was one's own. When Tony asked if he or Gibbs should do something for Kate, Gibbs has responded with a question of his own. "You ever make a mistake, Tony?" And when Tony admitted it, after trying reflexively to deflect with a joke, Gibbs continued, asking if anything anyone had ever said had helped. Tony didn't answer, but of course, the boss was right.

Gibbs famous, almost superhuman, ability to eat his own pain, to just...withstand and wait it out, in the basement, or even on the job, face relaxed, eyes intent, but his body taut under the loose clothing, was just sheer, terrifyingly tensile, unrelenting, bull-headed stubbornness. He knew that it was right to not give in, so he just...didn't. Not to his own. Not to Kate's. Not to Tony's. But when he had _caused_ Tony's pain...

That first time they came together, Tony, uncharacteristically surprised and driven by his own pain, had caused Gibbs'. The second time, it was Gibbs who had struck the blow.

**TD & LJG**

The next day, Tony didn't allow himself to think much about it. To give what had happened between them consideration was to give it too much weight. It was just that once, after all. Tony had worked for Gibbs for more than two years, well past the time that he usually...changed jobs. Gibbs knew his name, had never called him Steve like he had Stan Burley, although for the first year he hadn't called him much at all. And Tony, for his part, always seemed to know what Gibbs wanted. Hell, yeah, the first year, Gibbs had to be _specific_ but Tony suspected from the minute he started working for the man, that he was a bastard the same way Tony was a bastard. He didn't have to learn how to stare down a suspect, or assume the worst about everyone, to resist any latent urges to mercy, it came naturally, just as it did for Gibbs. He was fascinated by Gibbs from the very beginning, and understood Gibbs in many ways better than he understood himself.

On the drive to work that next day, Tony could admit to a pang of worry. He was up early, made sure he was at work ahead of Gibbs, but as the day wore on, and the boss didn't seem any different, he stopped worrying about it, even though he wasn't really worrying about it much at all. Hardly crossed his mind. Plus Tony didn't feel any different. They were guys. It was just sex.

And that seemed to be true.

A few weeks later, at the end of a difficult case, one which happened to end on a Friday, Tony found himself standing in front of Gibbs home, uncertain. He didn't feel like sex—_what the hell was wrong with him_—or at least, no more than usual. But he was unsettled by the case, didn't know how Gibbs had figured certain things out, seemed to have known before the evidence was even processed. It was a puzzle. He liked puzzles. But he hadn't been invited. Shrugging, he approached and knocked. A few minutes later, Gibbs opened the door.

Gibbs just waited, didn't say anything.

Tony asked the question that was on his mind.

"Can I see the boat?"

A long beat later, Gibbs pushed the door at him, forcefully enough that Tony danced back and to the side to slip in. An hour later, having sat on the steps drinking a —rather unclean—jar containing an inch of bourbon, Tony felt...better. After announcing that he was meeting up with friends at a bar soon, he cheerfully took himself off, satisfied with the grunt he got from Gibbs. Gibbs smiled slightly and shook his head. So that was alright then.

Nothing bothered Gibbs. Everything bothered Tony, or at least seemed to, by how big a deal he made of everything from a paper cut to the change in the location of the donut cart. And yet, Tony didn't seem bothered by what a bastard Gibbs was; in fact, he was indiscriminate in his acceptance of Gibbs' attention. Approbation or criticism was all the same, it seemed. As Gibbs barked orders and slapped the back of his head and mocked him with all the things that Tony said that weren't meant for him to hear and yet he did. Gibbs, for his part, did seem especially attuned to Tony, to catch everything he said so consistently.

Then one day, in the middle of one case, Gibbs didn't hear anything. He heard nothing where there should have been something.

"Cat got your tongue, Dinozzo?"

"What, boss?" came the abstracted reply.

"DiNozzo. Speak."

And Tony, a little confused, repeated his summary of the case so far, adding a few minor details glened in the last hour.

"That it?" Gibbs glared even more fiercely than usual.

"That's all, boss." But Tony didn't make eye contact.

"DiNozzo. Go talk to the victim's wife again." Instinct had him sending Tony back to the wife of the deceased, the interview that marked the beginning of DiNozzo's silence.

And from the way Tony stilled, Gibbs knew he had guessed right. Tony's lips tightened minutely and Gibbs wondered if he was actually going to refuse.

"On it, boss." Almost no hesitation, really, but when the case was over, Gibbs watched Tony pack up and head out much more rapidly than usual, and without any of the end of case banter with Kate or Abby. He slipped into the elevator before Tony knew he was behind him.

They rode down in silence.

"Something eating you?"

"Nope." Tony rocked on his heels, staring up at the ceiling.

Gibbs had run out of conversational gambits. He asked the question, had his answer, but couldn't shake the feeling that something he had done had caused Tony's unusual behavior. But he wasn't going to badger the younger man. He would say something or not. God knows, he seemed to feel free to show up in his basement. He'd come by if he wanted to.

The elevator came to a stop. The doors swished open. Tony exited and walked a few steps before spinning around, walking backwards.

"Aren't you getting out?" He called out to Gibbs, wondering that the man was still in the metal box.

Gibbs just shook his head and shrugged, smiling a little. "Nah." And the doors closed.

**TD & LJG**

When Tony got home, pizza in hand, Gibbs' car was parked in front of his apartment complex. He was still angry-well, not really angry, Gibbs couldn't have known that the woman knew his father, had talked about seeing Tony as a boy once, making an appearance at a party and wasn't he the little gentleman, so polite and well spoken. Tony was upset beyond what the comment should have meant to him, not even entirely certain himself what was bugging him but knowing that it got worse when Gibbs sent him back, even though the woman didn't repeat her story. There was nothing more to be gained by talking about it though, and Tony felt a flicker of hurt—no _anger_—at the thought that Gibbs, of all people, was going to make him talk about it.

Gibbs had only been here a few times, to pick him up, had never come inside. He wasn't sitting in the car, though, and sure enough when Tony came out of the stairwell, hefting his backpack and balancing the pizza still, Tony could see Gibbs leaning next to the door to his apartment. Blue eyes met green and they might as well be in the bullpen, for all the emotion in the act. Tony half expected him to bellow, "Grab your gear, DiNozzo!" Tony didn't comment on the other man's presence, just opened the door and let Gibbs come in behind him as he would. He didn't know why the man was here, but he was sure he'd find out when Gibbs was good and ready.

For some reason, Tony came to a halt a few feet beyond the door, in the hallway, letting the backpack slide off his shoulder and swinging it gently to land on the floor against the wall. The apartment was just as he left it this morning. He knew that in the kitchen there was a bowl and a mug in the sink, dirty but rinsed, and that otherwise, everything was neat and picked up. The late afternoon sunlight streamed through one of the small windows to make bright stripes on the piano. He could feel Gibbs behind him, close behind, and then the older man took the pizza and tossed it to land on the floor even as he kicked the door shut.

Tony jumped a little at the sound and then again when he felt Gibbs hands on the back of his arms, above the elbows, on bare skin since he had stripped down to his undershirt in the car. But, with the feel of those rough palms sliding up his arms, sliding under the sleeves of his t-shirt, Tony weakened and helplessly leaned back against Gibbs, whose mouth was hot on his neck, not quite where Tony wanted him, or Gibbs either apparently, because Gibbs turned him so that his mouth was lower, licking into the hollow, the almost desperate suction against his throat had his blood pumping strong against the older man's lips.

Neither made a sound beyond harsh grunts and heavy breathing. Nor did they make it past the front hallway, not yet anyway. Tony found all their clothes there, later, when he looked for them. Once again, it was Tony who dropped to his knees, suddenly overcome with the memory of Gibbs' cock in his mouth, and wanting, wanting that again. Wanting the response he could wring from the other man's body, and when he got it, it was as sweet as he remembered. The feel of Gibbs coming down his throat made him grind himself hard against the other man's leg. He swallowed quickly and pressed even harder against Gibbs to prolong the other man's orgasm and catch it all, shuddering at the feel of the rough palms against his face and head. Gibbs pulled him up by the hand and turned him so Tony was tucked into the other man's body and Gibbs' rough palm now stroked Tony expertly. From their position, it was like Gibbs was jacking himself off. But Tony could feel Gibbs still half hard dick behind him, pressing between his ass cheeks. Tony arched backwards, until Gibbs cheek pressed against his, the bones of their faces shifting against one another, a sharp hurt in all the pleasure. Gibbs' hand on his cock was relentless and his other hand stroked up Tony's naked chest to tweak and twist one of his nipples and Tony swallowed his moan as he bucked, hard, and came, even harder, high up on his belly.

Tony would have taken a woman's hand, pulled her into the apartment with him, drawn her into his bedroom. If he did that sort of thing, which he didn't. He preferred to take women somewhere other than his apartment. But here and now, he just knew he wanted more, needed more, and Gibbs was a man, and ...well, Gibbs, and he wasn't going to hold hands with Gibbs. So he just walked into the increasing twilight of the apartment, hoping Gibbs would follow. And he did.

But now they were in his bedroom, on the bed and Gibbs pushed Tony down and climbed on top of him and all the touching was rough and hard-edged, coarse but unbelievably satisfying comfort. And Tony wasn't in the habit of being with men, and even though he had a little experience, it wasn't like he kept a supply of lube or had had anal sex in years and while the thought of taking Gibbs caused heat to flash through him like lightning, it wasn't really...likely, now was it. So Tony found himself on his side, facing the older man, and he couldn't decide where to look. It seemed that he couldn't look away for more than a few seconds from the sight of their bare cocks rubbing together, and yet the glazed blue eyes of the other man… he had never seen Gibbs like this. For his part, Tony could feel Gibbs' eyes on his face, his lips. So when hips rolling and thrusting against each other, they came again, together this time, Tony was not even surprised when Gibbs' mouth took his and although they were equals in the act, Gibbs mouth on his felt like an order, like the power the other man had over him.


	3. Chapter 3: What Tony Needed

Marissa Tucker's phone vibrated in her hip pocket. In her position as a dispatcher, it would be a serious breach of regulations to have a personal phone ring on the job. But tonight when her shift ended at midnight, she was hoping to hook up with a guy she met at a wedding last weekend and now, at twenty til, she hoped that was him, telling her where to meet him. When she saw it was Fern, on duty at the entrance station, she slumped back in her seat. _Damn. _And then sat bolt upright again when she saw the message.

::Gibbs' team caught a case at a dump. And it's raining. This is not a drill. I repeat, this is not a drill. The pigeon is in the nest. I can't leave. Make me proud. I want details.::

Marissa stood up suddenly. Bergenson looked over from his station. "I'm going to the head, okay?" He shrugged and waved her off.

Heather had gone home but she was pretty sure Olivia was working late. She walked faster.

Marissa could not stop the excited grin from curling across her face. _Tony DiNozzo had to take a shower_. Here and now. Not only were they going to get an eyeful, sure to fuel fantasies for months but they would get a little revenge on the man for his relentless but so far fruitless flirting.

**LJG & TD**

Tony should have been in a foul mood. Gibbs and Kate had been working interviewing witnesses, dry and warm in the hotel, leaving he and McGee to process the scene, including one of the smelliest, most disgusting, dumpsters ever to grace the nation's capitol. No brainer, right? McGee would get in the dumpster. But. McGee had won the bet. The bet where the loser won a one-way trip to the shittiest assignment of the winner's choice. At a time of his choosing. So. Tony got the dumpster. Fortunately, when the call came in, he was home and had changed into jeans and a t-shirt, so he didn't ruin shoes or suit. In fact, he had been heading over to Gibbs' house to watch a game. Granted, it was hardly even bleacher seats at Nationals Park. In fact, every time he watched a game on Gibbs' TV, he expected the game to be interrupted by breaking news reports from Edward R. Murrow or for I Love Lucy to be ending just as the game came on. "_Or for it to take 8 minutes to warm up."_ Tony muttered and groused as he painstakingly sorted through the top layer of garbage. He was enjoying his grumbling, actually. And while he took great delight in delegating all small tasks to probies, he actually loved the painstaking police work part of the job. Part of him was glad to be the one searching methodically.

But then, as if things weren't hard enough, the penetrating fog—cold and so thick that Tony only knew he wasn't alone by the murmur of other people talking out of sight—changed to a blinding downpour. The water ran in sheets and glowed white in the hallogen glow of the single high-powered floodlight set up over the dumpster. Tony called for a couple of techs and they rigged a canopy across but the damage was done. The evidence was swimming and Tony was soaked through. When he finally couldn't reach any more bags from outside the bin, he climbed in, his feet slipping and sliding on the wet plastic. He barely repressed a yell as one leg suddenly punched right through a soggy carton of rotten vegetables.

So really, he should be in a terrible mood. But Gibbs had invited him over to watch a game. Well, maybe invitation was too strong a word. Just mentioned that the door was open. That a game was on. Months had passed and not only had no mention been made of either of the two occasions on which they had had sex, but if anything, they seemed even more in tune. Kate, now almost nine months in to her assignment at NCIS, had started asking lately how Tony knew what Gibbs was going to say or ask them to do. Obviously, the woman wanted to know as well, and as much as Tony liked her, respected her—and he did like and respect her, more than he allowed her to know at this point—he wasn't about to give her another edge. She stood up to Gibbs from the beginning and the man obviously respected her profiling skills. Never had he seen Gibbs accept someone into their team of two so readily. The grounds of the Navy yard were littered with the bodies of probies and interns and agents temporarily assigned to assist them. And now McGee too. Gibbs seemed intent on forming a whole unit, one little happy family.

So he was in pretty good spirits. In fact, after deftly maneuvering matters so that Kate had to drive him back to the yard, he was in an even better mood. Her car would stink for _weeks_. Along with Kate, McGee, and even Gibbs, Tony loped through the building to first Ducky's lab and then Abby's. Despite the warm car ride home, Tony was dripping, a puddle forming at his feet as he stood in Abby's lab, helping unpack.

"DiNozzo. Go clean up, would ya?" Gibbs looked up and jerked his head toward the door.

"On it, Boss." Tony double-timed it out of the room, grinning back at Abby and winking at Kate as she gingerly pulled the wet evidence bags out of the duffle. He was pretty sure that he had left some clothes in the locker room. This time of night, no one was around, so Tony stripped down by the lockers, thinking about just trashing the clothes rather than washing them. He knew he wouldn't though. Old habits died hard and at one time in his life, he cared for every item of clothing as if it was his last. As it might have been. So he gave a little salute to his filthy designer jeans—unbelievable what some people dropped off at Goodwill—and his favorite faded OSU t-shirt, and stalked naked to the showers—towel, sweatpants, t-shirt in hand. No boxers but he'd live.

Laying his dry things carefully on the bench, he stepped gratefully into the shower, flipping the controls to hot and let the steam fill his lungs and the heat soak into his muscles.

_The MaMa pajama rolled outa bed and she ran to the police station  
__When the PaPa found out he began to shout and he started the investigation._

Over the sound of the water, and his singing, Tony thought he heard something. A giggle? But it could have been the squeak of his feet on the shiny tile. He shuffled his foot. It made a squeaky sound.

"McGee? Kate?" Nothing.

_Well it's against the law  
__It was against the law  
__What the mama saw  
__It was against the law_

No sound this time but he didn't feel...alone. Damn. Shortest shower in the history of showers. He soaped up his hair and pits and other parts and rinsed quickly, snapping off the water and rubbing hands up his face and slicking his hair back. He blinked and pushed the curtain open, but didn't see his clothes or towel.

"_McGee...Kate..._this isn't funny!" Definitely a giggle. More than one. Female giggles. Ah. Hm. Tony crept slowly forward and peaked around the corner into the locker portion of the room.

He should have known. Marissa. And Olivia. Both women had been flirting shamelessly with him for weeks but despite his Cassanova image, he really did try to not actually get hot and heavy with people he worked with. Oh he went out a lot and was as ready as the next guy to dance and drink and hang out, especially in a group, but really, did they have no sense at all?

He spotted his towel and clothes, sitting lonely in the center of a bench 20 feet away. The two women perched on their own bench nearby, as if front row at a Bruce Springsteen concert. Or next to the stage at a bachelorette party, more like it.

Tony tried reason. "Ladies, okay, you've had your fun. Either toss me my clothes or go find your own locker room, okay?"

Neither woman moved and Marissa tilted her head and raised her chin in challenge.

"Well, I can stay here all day...night, I mean. In fact, maybe I'll go back and finish the shower that was so rudely interrupted." Belatedly he realized that this would mean putting himself into an even more vulnerable position.

"Seems to me, the man asked nicely." Both women's faces were suddenly horrified. The gruff voice behind them was unmistakable. And now Tony had a different problem.

At the sound of the other man's voice, his cock had started to harden. _Fuck. _ _Why now? Other than those two times, and they were entirely unpremeditated and spur of the moment, at least on his part, and honestly, he was sure on Gibbs' part as well, he hadn't had any trouble being around Gibbs at work, on the job. At night, in his dreams, that was another matter, but—_his head was spinning, trying to think how to get himself out of this. As he would have anticipated—and he heard the door open and shut behind them—the two women had already slunk from the room and Tony hoped that he had enough time to calculate hard-on deflating squares—15 squared was 225, 16 squared was 256, 17 squared was 289, 18 squared was...okay, uh...8 times 8 was sixty four carry the six...324—"

"DiNozzo? You want your towel?"

"Just...just leave it there, Boss. They cut my shower short and I was pretty dirty. I should probably get back in. I think they've learned their lesson. I was gonna kick their asses but thanks for stepping in—" Tony tipped his head back and closed his eyes, stopped babbling. Gibbs' voice was the key. Any ground he had gained, so to speak, in the not-being-stark-raving-naked-with-a-hard-on department was lost again when Gibbs spoke. And now, Tony heard nothing but silence. Which could only mean one thing.

The man was right in front of him.

He opened his eyes and jerked his head downward, his eyes meeting Gibbs' bright blue ones. Gibbs looked...inquisitive. And then a little smile, instantly repressed, caught Tony's attention. Despite his predicament, Tony asked, "What?"

Gibbs pursed his lips a little, jerked his chin at Tony. "You blushing?"

Tony pressed his lips together, caught, and irritated with it. "Boss…"

"Just...thought you might have taken advantage of that little situation." He nodded toward the door, referring to the women, Tony assumed.

"Why?" Tony blurted out, grateful that Gibbs' eyes hadn't once flicked down during this conversation. He was close enough that he would really have to _look down_ to see anything, but on the other hand, his closeness wasn't helping matters any and on the third hand, if he got any closer, he wouldn't have to look down. Tony's dick'd be poking him.

Gibbs expression said he didn't know what Tony was asking.

"Why do you think I would have taken advantage of the situation?" Tony, suddenly, wanted to know if Gibbs really thought he would have got it on with two coworkers in the men's locker room at the beginning of an investigation.

Again, Gibbs answered without words. This time by reaching out and stroking up Tony's cock with a finger. Tony wanted to melt, to groan, to push into Gibbs' hand, to make him press harder, faster, to taste his mouth again...

But he didn't. He stood up to Gibbs, because that was one of his freaky gifts, like knowing when an empty house was occupied, like being able to _see_ the movements of a killer in the final minutes of a murder. He stood up to Gibbs, was able to and knew _when_, even if he didn't know why. _Now_.

Tony kept his face impassive. Rarely did he put on a mask special for Gibbs. And he could see that Gibbs was surprised by it now. _My hard-on? Not for the women, Gibbs. For you._ But he didn't say the words. And Gibbs didn't say anything back. Just turned and left.

And two days and long nights later, in the afternoon when the case was finally closed, Gibbs was picked up by the mysterious red-headed woman in a pretty blue sports car. He waved slightly to Kate and Tony as they drove off.

Kate gave Tony a puzzled glance. "Why're you so happy?"

He smirked easily. "What, can't a guy be happy that his boss is getting laid by a mysterious red-headed woman in a blue sportscar? Kate, are you really so petty that you don't wish Gibbs well in his love life?"

"I try not to think about it, Tony," Kate raised an eyebrow, her eyes were shining and mouth smirking, "and I succeed. Who _is_ she anyway?"

Tony winked and jogged off toward the parking lot, turning and walking backwards to answer her, "No one knows, Katie. It's a _mystery_! But not one I am intending to solve tonight. Gibbs is off, we're off. C'mon, let's go…"

He wished Gibbs _good luck with that _but knew that if Gibbs was anything like him, until they finished what had been started in that locker room, no redhead was going to stop the dreams…

**LJG & TD**

Gibbs spent more time with Tony outside of work than he did with anyone else. Which is not to say it was a lot of time. But if he wasn't alone, it was most likely Tony keeping him company. Oh, he had dinner with Ducky occasionally. And he had even eaten a surprisingly companionable dinner with Fornell who had insisted on it after the Travis murders. But more often than not, increasingly, Tony came by to sit on the steps of the basement, or on the couch to watch a game, or even, to cook something in his kitchen.

People would be surprised to find that Tony spent as much time as he did at Gibbs' house, given that Tony seemed to occupy all of his time elsewhere. The man was renowned for clubbing, arranging bowling parties, playing in pick up football games. If it was an activity, and it was social, Tony was involved. And yet. At least once a weekend and sometimes during the week, Tony opened the unlocked front door and made himself at home. Once he made chilli. With corn. Gibbs liked corn.

People would also be surprised that Tony didn't usually say much more than Gibbs himself did, which might explain his presence at Gibbs' house as opposed to functions that required a lot of talking. Gibbs smiled a little, thinking about it, but even alone he only let his lips curl a bit. Except when he sat on the stairs. When Tony sat on the stairs, he would talk. A lot. Just for a while, running out of words eventually, but he...chattered. An almost entirely one-sided conversation with himself, and incidentally, Gibbs. What would have infuriated Gibbs in someone else, he tolerated with Tony, knowing the younger man would wind down soon enough. Knowing he needed it, somehow. Gibbs liked being needed.

He did not, however, like _needing_. He liked wanting. Choosing. Deciding.

He was confused by the sex. He hadn't...known, that he could do that, enjoy that, but he guessed it was like most everything else in this world, not up to him ultimately. He was surprised, though, at how little impact, none really, it had on their working relationship. Maybe they even understood each other a little better. Maybe it was a guy thing. Hell, if it was this easy, it was a wonder all men weren't gay.

He didn't figure he was gay, though. He still enjoyed being with a woman, had certainly proven that many times over in the last several months. But the memory of the sex with Tony—and it was really only handjobs and blowjobs, some rough humping, _did that even count?_—kept him awake at night. Or rather, it didn't keep him awake. It woke him up. Hard and hot and sweaty, moaning and rolling over onto his stomach to press into the couch cushion, seeking greater pressure and friction. Desperate. Wrapping his hand around his cock, he'd jerk himself off, coming into the sweaty shirt he pulled over his head, coming _hard_, images of Tony's mouth wrapped around him, sucking, playing in memory, and the climaxes were good, really good for just jacking off, but were faint echoes of the pleasure that ripped through him like a knife when he had been with the other man.

Gibbs realized he had been sitting on the old camp stool for twenty minutes, staring into space as the baseball game droned in the background. He rubbed his hands over his face, tired. Maybe he should just go to bed.

Instead, he put aside his thoughts and picked up a planer. Tomorrow was the start of another work week. Best clear his head.

**LJG & TD**

"Wait, wait," Gibbs said breathlessly. "Tony, stop. Stop. Stop." But his mouth couldn't overtake his body and in fact, it wouldn't stop kissing the younger man, and Tony was the aggressor here, obviously, considering the fact that he had attacked Gibbs in his own house just as Gibbs entered, but at the same time Tony was curiously pliant, almost boneless, his body flush against Gibbs', the wall supporting them both, and Tony was leaning fully against him. Tony's forearms rested against the wall, bracketing Gibbs' face, but again, there was no force there. Gibbs' head was spinning. Tony was taking him down fast, with long, deep kisses. They had spent most of the day together, at work. Neither had brushed his teeth or taken a shower since this morning. Tony's kisses tasted like _Tony_, like a man who had talked and smiled, eaten lunch and chewed gum, drank coffee, maybe drank a beer or two. Tony's tongue delved deep and his mouth invited Gibbs to do the same. His mouth was so mobile, kissing and kissing and kissing and then pulling back just enough to pull on Gibbs' lips, lick and suck along the line of his jaw, nuzzle underneath his ear, tongue sneaking out to taste. Again, Gibbs couldn't believe that he tasted great at this point in the day and yet Tony was so _hard. _Even as the other man melted against him, Gibbs could feel the hard chest and ribs beneath Tony's t-shirt; his elbow poking down onto Gibbs' shoulder as he pressed against him; his cock hard and thick against the front of his own extremely tight jeans. Tony wanted him.

Gibbs felt anxiety, suddenly. He almost didn't recognize it for what it was. He was used to fear, hatred, anger, even panic, when one of his team was in danger. But anxiety was a suffocating, sneaky fear. He didn't feel that way usually. He didn't expect the best from the world so he didn't experience emotions related to anticipation. He, in fact, expected the worst, so the presence of anxiety, what did that mean? It could only mean one thing. The reappearance of hope in his life. Something to lose.

Now, panic. The panic of a threatened animal, and he flipped them so that Tony was below him, so Gibbs could punish him or hurt him, and cut the cord that was feeding him hope. No, just _no._

Tony's warm hands, much rougher than they had any right to be given the lifestyle he purported to live, hadn't bothered to push off Gibbs' jacket, but had pulled the shirt from his pants and were snaking below to pull his..._boss? mentor? lover? boyfriend? fuck? Jesus, he had no idea what to even call himself. Man, _came to mind. Tony's hands had now spread wide on his back and _pulled_ at the man he had not stopped thinking about since two o'clock and the case was closed.

Gibbs couldn't help it. He groaned and forced himself _why did he have to force himself he wanted Tony to stop stop making him feel this way_ to yank hard on Tony's elbows until he could reach Tony's wrists and slam them hard _harder than he had planned, why wasn't he in control_ against the wall. It took him all he had to pull his mouth away from Tony and even then he couldn't make himself move far.

"_Tony. _What, what are you doing? Tony, what—" Tony's head was tipped back and Gibbs glared, his face close, so close, to the younger man's. Tony's eyes were only open a bit and the green glint was intent and fearless, completely unaffected by Gibbs' glare. Their breath mingled and tasted, smelled, like sex, like man, like Tony. Tony felt it too and his eyes slammed shut and his body arched against Gibbs, as if all it would take was one more exhalation from Gibbs to make him come.

Gibbs' anger suddenly focused on Tony. It wasn't going to be that easy. He wasn't going to make it that easy. "Off." He growled, tugging once at Tony's shirt and stepped away from the man. Tony gasped a little at the loss of contact. Gibbs turned and walked back to the door, locking it and pulling the curtains closed along the front of the house. Tony stood, waiting, until Gibbs turned, came back for him. He didn't pull the younger man into the living room by the hand, but came around behind him, reached out to push him into the room with a hand at his back. At the first touch of the tips of Gibbs' fingers in the hollow of his naked back, Tony moved quickly forward, as if shocked that Gibbs had slipped his hand under the edge of his t-shirt.

Tony pulled the shirt over his head and Gibbs got an eyeful of the man's beautiful back, muscled and lean, brown from outside work or play. Tony turned around, hands at the buttons of his fly. Paused to let Gibbs come closer. Gibbs could see that Tony's pupils were blown and hazy with arousal. When he blinked, they were long and slow. Gibbs noticed that Tony's feet were bare and he thought about taking the other man, about being clothed, having shoes on, when Tony wasn't, didn't. His own cock pulsed angrily at its confinement. It wanted _out. _

"Do it." He ordered. Tony slowly unbuttoned his jeans, hooked his fingers in the waistband and tugged. No underwear. Figures. Tony was trying to kill him. The sharp bones of Tony's hips became visible and Gibbs wanted to lick them, take his time tasting them. The soft denim fell to the floor in a heap.

Where he, Gibbs, was angry, driven by a lust that he wasn't sure he wanted and that thread of fear, Tony was..._not. _ Not angry, not afraid. He was...was...Gibbs didn't know what he was. Soft. He was doing everything Gibbs asked, and he hadn't spoken a word yet. Suddenly, Gibbs' chest was tight, breath short, and _fucking seriously_, he was ready to goddamn come in his pants without even a hand laid on him if Tony even made a sound.

Gibbs didn't recognize his own voice it was so low and breathy and hungry, not demanding, _pleading_, "What do you need?

And Tony smiled, stepped into him close, closer, _closer_, until the smooth marble texture of his skin was under Gibbs' fingertips on his back, stroking down his ass, between his legs to touch his balls from behind, exploring, driving the younger man higher. And instead of moaning and grinding or rolling against him, Tony just...gave in. Took everything Gibbs had to give. Immediately, his weight came to rest against Gibbs heavily and Gibbs moved them backwards against the wall until they were in a very similar position to when he first entered the house. Gibbs against the wall, Tony boneless against him. But now, Tony was naked and hot and hard. And absolutely at Gibbs' mercy.

Gibbs stroked his back, learning the shape of it. Tony pressed his face against Gibbs' neck and shoulder and let him. Gibbs played more with Tony's balls from behind, between his legs. Tony opened his mouth and suckled gently along Gibbs' neck. Gibbs brought his palms up to stroke rough lines up Tony's sides, pressed his thumbs into his armpits in circles. And if Tony's lips pressed harder, mouth opened more widely, wetter, almost in a silent cry, he still didn't make a sound.

"_What do you need?"_ Gibbs whispered in his ear and Tony's body didn't shudder or buck...it _rippled_, and Gibbs had to clutch him to keep him.

And for the first time, in all of this, Gibbs felt Tony's hand on his. Wrapped tightly in Gibbs' convulsive embrace, Tony slipped his hand down and threaded his fingers through Gibbs'. He pulled him forward, across the room, into the hallway, bent, reached into his backpack and pressed a small bottle into the older man's hand. In the dim light, as Tony straightened, Gibbs could see the shadow of whiskers on Tony's face. Even though Gibbs wasn't kissing him—_nownownow__, said the wolves howling in his gut_—Gibbs felt as if he actually was kissing Tony right now. He knew what the rough traces of beard would feel like against his face, knew that Tony was all man, admitted somewhere that he enjoyed seeing Tony naked, the play of muscles in the flat stomach, the long legs, so different than a woman. But the bottle. Lubrication.

And then Gibbs was beyond thought. Only feeling. He bent Tony over the couch, stroked the soft skin of his back in a couple long sweeps, to gentle or calm but Tony was calm. He was breathing hard, but his body was so soft; he was so open to Gibbs. And Gibbs, for the first time ever, wet his fingers and touched Tony the way he wanted, noticing, even in his inexperience, that Tony was already ready and now, _now_, Tony spoke.

"_Gibbs._"

Unbearably aroused, Gibbs pressed forward slowly into Tony and when his body curled and pressed against the other man, and when he started to move, it was with one hand locked in Tony's, both of them braced against the back of the couch, and the other reaching around to stroke the man's cock. Tony held on to his hand, his grip painful, panting and starting to moan, making little high-pitched noises of need and desperation. And before either of them wanted, they lost themselves to each other, their climaxes almost painful, crystalline and sharp, in contrast to the soft, sweaty heat of rolling hips, and Gibbs' mouth pressing soft kisses into Tony's back.

* * *

A/N: I haven't ever written anything like this story. I wouldn't mind knowing what you think. Thanks for reading. Sqs.


	4. Chapter 4: What Gibbs Needed

**3 weeks earlier**

Tony had developed a very unusual skill set as a result of his very unusual childhood and adolescence. He was a consummate actor and an unparalleled snoop. He kept himself in extraordinary physical condition, exercises designed to provide both maximum power and speed. All the better to hit back and run away. In addition, his conditioning allowed him to excel at sports which allowed him to hone his acting ability—he could misdirect in word or in deed. If his father hadn't been such a creep, in addition to neglectful and therefore an unknowing accessory to abuse as well as a passive abuser, Tony might well have worked for the C.I.A. Instead, a more straightforward, less cerebral sort of justice suited him better. Nevertheless, he had the instincts and skills of both predator and prey; he could be ruthless and canny, subversive and recursive. He understood the value in things others might discount. For instance, First Impressions and Heart.

People said "Oh, I disliked him from the start," or "he had cold eyes". And far be it for Tony to discount those kind of instincts. Sometimes there was something there. Knowing whether to pay attention was more a matter of knowing whether you were usually right about such things than whether eyes were actually windows to the soul. No, what Tony cherished was the initial period of getting to know someone or something. The first time he saw a movie or ate at a restaurant. A night with a beautiful woman. The first week of a new workout regimen. The first few years of an assignment.

The initial period of anything was when you had access to things that it could take you years to find out later. Take Gibbs, for instance. On meeting him, Tony was immediately and increasingly aware of just how much he wanted to impress and please this man. He didn't know why...yet, but knew it would be interesting to find out. Gibbs then was—was still—magnetic. Strong and decisive and smart, quick and irritable and much more charismatic than he wanted to be. And silent. Quiet where other people talked. But in those early months of Gibbs, Tony recognized something of himself; he didn't know what exactly, but something about Gibbs was the same. Like to like. So when the little personal information Gibbs _did_ give up was all about the ex-wives—grumbling about alimony and seven irons and so on—the hunter in Tony thrilled to the misdirection and the prey in him recognized the dodge. Gibbs said so little that it seemed that what he said must be true. And maybe it was, as far as it went. But Tony—pretty Tony, funny Tony, good-for-a-laugh or a few bucks Tony—leaned over counters, and hung out at transoms, flirted with secretaries, borrowed and illicitly copied keys, and even slept with a low level functionary at city hall named Leonard. All without being noticed. And then by the time that the initial era of getting to know Gibbs was over, by the time that Tony bounced into work one day only to find his senses duller with affection and experience and the training that now bound the younger agent to the older, he already knew something that even Ducky wouldn't know until years later. The truth of Gibbs' first wife. And daughter.

First impressions. They didn't tell you anything for sure. They told you what to look for. Heart was entirely different.

So then, during that case with the kidnapped _neglected_ boy, in a vulnerable moment, Tony revealed that he knew Gibbs had lost a child, acted on that knowledge to ask Gibbs to interfere on behalf of the boy. Tony did that. Because of a tragedy that Gibbs kept buried. Deliberately and with great care. With as much skill as anyone Tony had ever met. And now Tony wondered exactly what he had done that day. Forced Gibbs to relive Kelly's death, to cry? Or had he done something...else too? Was it wishful thinking to believe that maybe Tony was the only person that Gibbs would have done that for? At the time, it seemed...just...just a request, a favor. Okay, a _huge_ favor. And Tony had been _pleading_, unable to get the boy's devastated face out of his mind, unable to look at the man in front of him without seeing his own father. And Tony had seen Gibbs aid the wounded before. But not usually, or often. Come to think of it, never on a personal level. Why had Gibbs done that? Why had Gibbs done that for him? Tony couldn't stop thinking about it.

Maybe Gibbs wondered too. Tony thought he did. Maybe. It _seemed_ like sometimes Gibbs looked at him like he was wondering. Or maybe he was thinking about the boat. Hard to tell really. Damn knowing someone so well. At least Kate was new. Her interactions with Gibbs gave Tony new insights into the man. So when Tony broke up with Michele the Social Worker, as Kate called her, and Kate remarked that she, Kate, would probably have killed Tony, Tony was surprised that Gibbs brought up rule 12: Never Date a Coworker. What did that have to do with Michele? Did he really think Tony would date Kate?

But that day bred bigger problems. Colonel Will Ryan, a former Marine commander of Gibbs, had gone rogue and Gibbs did the same, if not so publicly. Going off to meet the colonel on his own, losing his FBI tail, walking into a bar without backup or recon. Tony was pissed that he had missed the way that Gibbs was protecting them all, but he, Kate, and Abby all made it very clear that they were his team and Gibbs all but thanked—_thanked—_Abby! He nodded to Kate, said he would try to remember next time...but not him, not Tony. Gibbs threatened to break Tony's fingers, seemed fixated on the fact that Tony took his cell phone.

And then, in the end, it was Gibbs' cell phone that led to the warehouse—although Gibbs must have known that would happen. And it was Fornell who backed him up. Gibbs had to go in to stop his friend from killing a crook, a man who was guilty of stealing, but not of conspiracy. Gibbs went in and Fornell went with him, willing to forebear...but only up to a point. It was Fornell who watched the usually silent Gibbs speak to Ryan in what was, for him, a torrent of words. Exhort and even beg Ryan—at one point, to "kill me if you want to kill someone. Lt. Cameron died saving _my_ life."

This was a piece of information that Tony didn't have, revealed in front of Fornell. Fornell had flicked the record option on his phone reflexively to preserve evidence and Tony lifted a copy of the audio file before the FBI had withdrawn from the naval yard. Tony was tortured by the brief glimpse he had of Gibbs holding Ryan and the harsh whisper of words amplified and clarified by the editing software on Abby's computer after everyone had gone home. Ryan's delusional refrain of "I don't understand," and Gibbs' response of "None of us ever do."

Gibbs would never come to him with this. Would never come to Tony when he was weak. Never. Only when he was strong.

So Tony went to him. But Fornell's car was in the driveway. Tony turned around in the street before he ever got all the way to Gibbs' house. From the living room, Tony knew how easy it was to keep track of who drove by on the quiet street. He didn't want Gibbs to think he was checking up on him. As he would have been. Going by Gibbs' now would be about Gibbs, not about Tony. Gibbs would hate that.

He stayed away till Saturday, but thought about going over every night. Through the rest of the week, Gibbs was even more taciturn and less playful than usual and Tony wondered at his own sudden inability to focus on anything other than Gibbs. But Gibbs seemed willing enough to have him sit on the steps of his basement that Saturday night, although he seemed to have just arrived himself. Tony wondered where he had been.

After what felt like hours of very small smalltalk, and a beer for Tony while Gibbs had bourbon, Gibbs moved away from the boat and stood near Tony almost like he was daring him, and commented, "You come by to kiss it and make it better huh, Tony?"

"So what if I did?" Tony made sure his voice was mild but he didn't appreciate the attack.

"Well, don't. I don't need it and I don't want it."

Tony's leg started bouncing where it rested. Gibbs was pissing him off. In fact, he was so mad, it felt like hurt. He felt sick, but answered Gibbs anyway.

"Who asked you?"

Gibbs turned on his heel and went back to the boat. "You know where the door is."

"Yeah, yeah I do. Doesn't mean I'm going to use it."

Gibbs made no response, just turned up the radio and started sanding. Tony knew that this was probably one of the things he did with women, with wives or girlfriends, to shut them out. He wasn't a fucking woman. He didn't care how silent Gibbs was, how much he wanted to do on his own. He just wanted the truth.

"Not til I get what I came for."

Gibbs finished what he was doing but paused, looked up, his body language signaling that he wasn't stopping and wasn't going to interrupt what he was doing for long. But Tony could see the telltale tightening of body and face, the cold eyes, the set mouth. But Tony didn't want soft or open. He wanted Gibbs. _He wanted Gibbs?_ Pushing the thought away, he crossed over to the other man, slipping around the front of the boat, pushed close to the wall so Tony had to squeeze by, but he wanted to be in front of Gibbs, not behind him.

He didn't know what he was going to do. _He was a match for Gibbs_, he thought. Oh he wasn't good enough for Gibbs, by any means, as an agent or a friend or...anything. Everything he was good at he had learned either from Gibbs or to protect himself. But he had kept his fucking heart goddamn it, and that was worth something. He felt things. That was what he had to offer, for whatever it was worth.

He stood in front of the man he followed, looked up to, stood up to, laughed at, teased, was abjectly grateful to and thankful for. And waited. Finally, with a put upon sigh, Gibbs straightened and met Tony's eyes.

"_What_?" He bit out.

Tony nodded, accepting.

"I...I'm _sorry_, Gibbs." When the older man started to speak, Tony put out a hand, laid his palm flat on Gibbs' chest. "No."

Gibbs stopped talking but rolled his eyes a little.

Tony huffed out a little breath of exasperation through his nose. _Suck it up, Marine._ "You aren't the boss of me, Gibbs. I'm saying I'm sorry that happened to you and to your friend and you don't get to refuse it."

Gibbs stared at him so long, Tony wondered if they were starting a staring contest but he didn't really feel the same level of tension that was there just a minute ago. Suddenly, Gibbs eyes widened, brightened and a small laugh erupted, surprising them both.

Tony knew he must look confused, but he smiled anyway, unable to not respond to Gibbs' happiness, however brief or ridiculous. "What?"

"I _am_ the boss of you."

Tony's grin widened. "Well, yeah. There is that." Gibbs looked down at the hand still resting on his chest, pointedly.

Tony lingered one second more and then withdrew. Headed to the stairs and took them two at a time, feeling lighter somehow.

"Have a good night, Boss."

Tony wasn't there to hear him reply, nodding a little at the boat in front of him. "Yeah."


	5. Chapter 5: Gibbs' Way

If the truth of Tony consisted in digging below the constructed personae, illusions, and backstory of his existence—really he had been on one long undercover assignment, in some sense, since adolescence—then the truth of Gibbs consisted in a list. The first list that Shannon didn't have a conscious hand in making.

1. When Kelly and Shannon died, it was either kill himself or find a reason to live.

2. He thought seriously about killing himself, every night, for at least a year after they were gone.

3. He wasn't likely to die on his own, of a broken heart, even though it felt like he could. Every day he was surprised that broken as it was, his heart still beat and that painful as it was to draw breath, his lungs still pulled in air. His legs still held him when he got up in the morning and despite the hours he spent awake in the dark, he was surprised that his eyes would eventually close. He would sleep, despite his best efforts. He could not will himself to die.

4. So in the end, instead of finding a reason to live, he found a _way_ to live.

5. Gibbs' way had two parts. First, he created a space inside himself for Kelly and Shannon. They were there, not gone, he spent a lot of time there with them, but he could separate his living from their dying.

6. Second, there was no reason to live, but there was an opportunity. A kind of fatalistic chance that most people never got, to live exactly as who they were. He did what wanted, how he wanted, and if he was a walking dead man, then he would exact justice where he could. He did what he loved, his job, in exactly the way he wanted to do it. He took Murder personally, which he figured didn't violate Rule #10. He trained probies the way they should be trained. If they couldn't handle it, and most couldn't, they left. If his bosses wanted to fire him, they could. He had plenty of money, untouched, in the bank, thanks to insurance. If suspects or witnesses wanted to complain that he asked difficult questions, rude questions, questions that crossed the boundaries of their own self-importance or wealth or status, so be it. He wasn't ever going to eat anything he damn well didn't want to ever again, though he would take precautions to stay fit and able.

7. So he gave up on living the dynamic life that others lived. He didn't want, expect, or plan on changing, growing. He did, in a sense, die that day with Kelly and Shannon. Not dead but not exactly a normal sort of living, either.

8. His development was arrested—he thought that was what they called it. At the time that his family died, he was a human man who was self-contained and quiet, but not unable to communicate, not unloving. He laughed when things were funny and had his own sense of humor. He always liked using his mind, knowing things that other people didn't know, figuring things out before them. He enjoyed being touched, and hell, he was a guy, he liked sex. He enjoyed a beer with a friend. He always enjoyed being around children. His job was good for all these things, and he still took enjoyment from them. When, eventually, he found himself surrounded by a team of people who thrived under his rule, he was able to accept them as family. They were _his_, and fell under the auspices of his rules, the unspoken ones as well, and he would protect and keep them.

7. A surprising (to him) side effect of his world view was that he became really attractive to women. Tony said once that he figured women were all over Gibbs because Gibbs wasn't needy. He didn't need them, but he wanted them, and that was sexy. Why wasn't that a good thing in the end, though? They knew going into it who he was, obviously. They _had_ liked it. Why didn't they like it once they were married to him? If he had gotten this far in his thinking, and it just wasn't that important to him, he would have said it was because they did expect him to change, to grow with them. And he couldn't. Wouldn't. That was the deal. He didn't change for anyone. Ever.

**LJG&TD**

Twice. An exchange of sorts. Sex. First Tony, for him. Then Gibbs, for Tony. Never again though. Rule 12 and all that. That moment in the locker room was a mistake.

And Gibbs was reassured, after the Colonel's breakdown and hospitalization, that Tony hadn't taken it on as a mission to comfort Gibbs physically. He forced Gibbs to accept his sympathy but no more. And that was a relief. Really it was. Last thing he needed was Tony thinking he needed a _relationship_ to hold him together when things got tough. Things could get back to normal now. And they did.

Until Voss.

**LJG&TD**

The events of that week played and replayed in Gibbs mind: from the moment he knew that it was Pacci dead and eviscerated in the elevator to the glimpse of Tony's face after Gibbs shot Voss in the forehead. He couldn't shake these dark scenes, but knew they will play themselves out eventually and the churning that allowed them to surface will slow and calm with patient daily application of booze and woodworking.

_Kate's voice, "Why did he do that? Why did he try?" About Voss and the choice to raise the gun and end her life. And Gibbs, Gibbs knew the man was going to choose death, could see it in her eyes, that death was better than losing the life she wanted._

McGee's stuttering report on Tony's whereabouts and Tony's explanation of how his date with Amanda came about and the smug satisfaction that Gibbs always felt when Tony took these risks. The man had guts and brains and Gibbs chose him and he was _right_. The plan also made Gibbs agitated and even more controlling than usual, as always happened when one of his team—usually Tony, he had to admit—was in direct danger. But if anyone could seduce the woman to mine her for information it was Tony.

Tony's glee over the stakeout, like a little kid; his kidding with Kate—the way he answered her phone, egging McGee on to play a practical joke on her; the kick he got at playing a role, "Stringfellow" of all the names. Only Tony. His irrepressible high spirits kept them going sometimes. Gibbs knew it.

"Sounds like Dwayne's in love." and Kate's response: "Permission to shoot him?" And her smile when he, Gibbs, answered. "Uh-huh."

Gibbs wished he could go back, give Pacci a different answer when he asked the older agent to take a look at something for him. It was his fault. Pacci died because Gibbs couldn't take the time. _Fuck_. And the director wanted him—_him!_—Gibbs to speak at Pacci's funeral. "Wouldn't be right, Duck."

Tony, at the bar with Amanda who turned out to be Voss, a known killer, and the high speed drive to the bar, to be ready to backup Tony and McGee. When Tony finally answered his fucking cell phone—_always answer, never be out of touch!_ —his voice was husky and confident; he was deep in his role, and, if Gibbs knew anything, aroused. Gibbs finally got to tell him that Voss was really Amanda, that Amanda, his date, was really a woman.

_Kate's voice, "Why did he do that? Why'd he try?" and Gibbs, Gibbs knew the man was going to choose death, could see it in her eyes, that death was better than losing the life she wanted._

Gibbs held his weapon on Voss, a bead on her forehead, all his awareness on her, except for the tiny part of him that had identified the team's positions: Tony ahead of him and to the right, McGee not as far forward on his left, Kate behind him. So when he shot and heard Kate's question, he couldn't help but answer in his own way. Kate didn't understand his answer, wasn't even aware that he _had_ answered, but Tony might have. Gibbs wasn't sure that Tony had heard Kate's question, or even needed to, to know what Gibbs had seen in her—yes, _her_—eyes at the end, the desire for connection, flirting, passion, love. With someone like Tony. Voss knew better than most, had calculated the price of taking such a life for himself.

Gibbs learned, later, that when Tony heard that Amanda was a woman, he wiped his mouth. Automatically and vigorously. Anyone would think it was out of disgust. But Tony revealed to Gibbs, high on painkillers many months in the future, that it was _guilt_. That he had kissed another man.

And no matter how many times that final showdown played out before his eyes, awake and asleep, the moment that really haunted him was the anomaly, the one moment where Tony stepped out of character.

Gibbs could hear the bite in his voice, the barked order, "I'll go through his things. You two check out his house."

And Kate's knee-jerk response, "Tonight?"

"Yes, _tonight_."

"I...I just gotta to make a call."

And he was sitting at Pacci's desk, getting ready to go through his personal things, and he turned on Tony. "Is there anyone _you_ need to call, _DiNozzo_?"

And Tony took the keys from his hand, the stroke of his fingertips quick and almost accidental against Gibbs wrist before the latex gloves started. "No, Boss. No calls."

His voice, soft and open and resigned. The gentleness was for him, Gibbs, and Gibbs barely registered it at the time, but later, when it was all over, that moment would not leave him.

He was able to make peace with the way he failed his friend and fellow agent. He wasn't infallible whatever his team thought. He didn't think anything of refusing to give the eulogy, or his sharpness with Kate. But that moment with Tony, where Tony offered something devoid of pity or condescension. Something undiluted. Recognition maybe. Something like that. Something tuned just to Gibbs, something that only Tony could give. What _was _it? Understanding? It went beyond understanding.

Gibbs could hear Tony's voice, smooth and low, "No Boss. No calls." It was sweet, whatever it was. And it was his.

A week or more later, they had another case, another bad one, but they wrapped this one up like they always did, about mid-afternoon and Gibbs spent the afternoon doing paperwork. Nevertheless, with bits and pieces of Pacci and Voss still surfacing in his waking life and dreams alike, when he went home that night and recognized the shadowy figure of Tony leaning in the doorway of his kitchen, he didn't fight it the way he should have.

_Tony was curiously pliant, almost boneless, his body flush against Gibbs', the wall supporting them both, and Tony was leaning fully against him. Tony's forearms rested against the wall, bracketing Gibbs' face, but again, there was no force there. Gibbs' head was spinning. Tony was taking him down fast, with long, deep kisses. _

And while he tried to break the hold that Tony had on him, the desire he felt, suddenly, to have what Voss had wanted, what he himself had wanted a lifetime ago, a chance, just one more chance, to be the center of someone's world, to accept the connection beween them, just once more.

_Tony smiled, stepped into him close, closer, closer, until the smooth marble texture of his skin was under Gibbs' fingertips on his back, stroking down his ass, between his legs to touch his balls from behind, exploring, driving the younger man higher. And instead of moaning and grinding or rolling against him, Tony just...gave in. Took everything Gibbs had to give. Immediately, his weight came to rest against Gibbs heavily and Gibbs moved them backwards against the wall until they were in a very similar position to when he first entered the house. Gibbs against the wall, Tony boneless against him. But now, Tony was naked and hot and hard. And absolutely at Gibbs' mercy. And before either of them wanted, they lost themselves in each other, their climaxes almost painful, crystalline and sharp, in contrast to the soft, sweaty heat of rolling hips, and Gibbs mouth pressing soft kisses into Tony's back. _

**LJG&TD**

Gibbs separated himself from Tony, went to the upstairs bathroom, leaving the downstairs to Tony if he wanted it. When he realized he was stalling, he mentally head slapped himself and padded down the stairs in an old t-shirt, older jeans, and bare feet.

But Tony was gone.

* * *

**A/N**: Okay so things might be about to get weird. This is the last chapter to follow in strict chronology. I have really struggled with the chronology of this story, what happens in what part of the timeline. And I feel like one of my students, like I can't concentrate on this (chronology/math) because I am busy thinking about that (things that I think are going to happen for Tony and Gibbs in the future/if tomorrow is going to be a snowday). So. I have decided that perhaps, despite my dedication to working on the chronology (boring!) this is a moment where I should trust the process (exciting!) and perhaps this story is not meant to be told chronologically. So what emerges next may read a little bit like The Time Traveler's Wife, about a man who lives an entire life, but out of order. I hate the idea that someone might be disappointed, but in the end the only person that has to be truly satisfied is me, I guess. I hope you'll stick with me, though. Really! Thanks for bearing with me.

Squares


	6. Chapter 6: Gibbs mows the lawn

It was early afternoon still. Until today, one or the other of them would spend the day pretending that this night, like most weekend nights, would not end in the other's bed, only giving in when the sun was down, when the cover of night seemed some small protection. Tonight was different. Maybe Tony began the hours of pretending early. Since it was a Saturday, he could do that. And maybe, when he showed up at Gibbs' and it was still light out, it threw him off schedule to find the man outside, mowing the lawn. He could still have turned around, driven off again, but he was sure he had seen Gibbs look up, see him. So he parked and went around back, curious. He had never seen Gibbs' back yard.

There wasn't much to see, just a medium-sized lawn. No sign of a garden or croquet set. It was because of this last thought that Gibbs caught him smiling.

Gibbs raised his voice, to be heard over the mower. Tony didn't know much about mowers but he was pretty sure this might have been one of the very first mowers ever made. Gas-powered but Gibbs was obviously doing all of the pushing. As Tony watched, Gibbs paused and raised his arm smoothly to wipe his forehead on the edge of his sleeve. Beads of sweat still tracked down the side of his face.

"You just gonna stand around or are you going to help?"

Tony spread his hands wide and smiled. _I'm all yours._ He didn't mean it like that, he promised himself. _Yeah, DiNozzo_,_ even you don't believe that._ But he waited the few moments while Gibbs adjusted the mower and and then started pushing again. "Weed Wacker is in the garage!"

"On it, boss!" Tony's response was automatic but brought a grin to the other man's face. Tony could see that the yard was overgrown, but not by much, and they _had_ been plagued by weeks of time-consuming cases. Probably Gibbs hadn't had much time for yard work. And it's not like the man would _pay_ someone to do it for him.

Didn't take very long to do the whole yard, maybe an hour, but in that time, the grass was cut and edged and together they got the small rock wall along the back edge propped back up. While Gibbs went in the back door of the garage to put the mower away, Tony stood out back and called in to him.

"You know, Gibbs, you should get a grill out here." He could hear the last of the tools and machines being put in place in the garage and then Gibbs came out, wiping his hands on a rag.

"Beer?" Deflection or thirst? Undeterred, Tony pushed as they took the steps up to the back door into the kitchen.

"There's enough room for it on the porch and you could grill even in the winter. And now, for instance, you could put burgers on. Sausages, chicken, even vegetables. I went out with this girl who grilled pizza." As he talked, he followed Gibbs into the house, the kitchen. He took the beer the other man held out, popped the cap.

They each leaned against the counter, facing one another across the small space. Gibbs' kitchen was small and dated, but clean and neat. Serviceable. Tony thought Gibbs might ask him why he was here, but instead he said, "You are talking a lot about food. You hungry?"

And Tony _was_ hungry, he was, but he suddenly couldn't face another couple hours of perfectly enjoyable company, eating, drinking, maybe catching the end of a game, or sitting on the steps while Gibbs worked, pretending, hoping that somehow he'd find a way to get what he really needed.

_oh shit oh shit oh shit_

The refrain was familiar and one of the ways Tony got through difficult situations. People thought he was so confident, undercover, flirting with beautiful women, mouthing off to authority. And he _was_ confident, because well, you know, it usually worked out. But didn't mean it was comfortable or that he thought it was going to work out every time. You decided to go for it and you just didn't back away from it, whatever it was. Bluffed and joked and pushed your way to it, with your mind, your sense of humor, your body.

Tony decided.

_oh shit oh shit oh shit_

Tony took a couple steps forward. In the tiny kitchen, it brought him pretty close to the other man. Gibbs face didn't give anything away, but his chin tipped up a little and his eyes locked on Tony's. As if on autopilot, Tony raised his bottle, already half empty, to his lips and drank, still watching Gibbs watching him. As he lowered the bottle, he stopped, held it out, offering.

That got a little huff of disbelief and an almost imperceptible tightening of lips and eyes. A smile, in Gibbs' world. Still propped up against the counter, Gibbs shifted his own bottle to his left hand and took Tony's, his eyes flicking down to it. Their hands didn't touch. Tony found he couldn't look away from Gibbs and when the other man raised Tony's beer to his lips, he had to repress a shudder when the blue eyes were suddenly back on his as he drank. It only took a few swallows before the bottle was empty and Gibbs turned his head and reached out with his right arm to drop it in the sink.

Gibbs in profile. Firm jaw, Saturday stubble, the tanned skin of his neck, right arm outstretched to discard the bottle, left crooked back and braced beside him against the counter, knuckles holding the neck of his own bottle loosely. Tony couldn't have resisted if he had tried, and he wasn't really trying.

He moved in fast, but not in a hurry, pressing up against Gibbs and trapping his outstretched arm by catching Gibbs' wrist tight with his left hand. He held it, hard, against the edge of the counter. He didn't know what his own face revealed, but Gibbs turned to look at him calmly, flexing his arm—_muscles rippling all the way up and back down_ _in a show of strength_—and then releasing without struggling. Making his point. _You can hold me, but only because I let you._

"You think you could take me, boss?" Tony didn't recognize his own voice, low, almost a growl.

"Oh, I know I could, DiNozzo." Gibbs' voice was unnervingly normal, unaffected almost, as if he was used to being held captive against his own kitchen counter, as if the urgent press of Tony's hips against his own was his own idea.

By now, Tony was speaking against Gibbs' neck, below his ear, _in his ear_. He didn't kiss the man, but he did lean deeper in, leaned forward and caught hold of the soft skin of his earlobe with his teeth, let his tongue touch briefly. Now, Gibbs reacted, bucked a little against Tony and Tony knew that, if he looked, Gibbs' eyes would be shut. Breathing hard, tortured with the thought of Gibbs' mouth so close, Tony reached out blindly with his free hand and took the beer bottle from Gibbs, fumbling it onto the counter and pushing it away with shaking fingers.

Tony had hoped, could practically _feel_, that Gibbs would slip his free hand under Tony's shirt to touch the bare skin of his stomach or back, or would reach up to hold his face, wind his fingers into his hair...but the man stayed passive. Even through his disappointment, Tony thrilled to the submission.

"_Gibbs—"_ Tony began, but the other man cut him off.

"Jethro, Tony." _Jethro Tony Jethro Tony Jethro Tony, _Tony's mind supplied unhelpfully.

"_Jethro,_" Tony shivered at the sound of his own voice and opened his mouth wide to suck on the tendons of the other man's neck. He kept his hand firm, almost painful, against Jethro's wrist, but licked and sucked with slow, soft swipes of his tongue and lips. Gibbs, for his part, stayed still but for tilting his head to give Tony better access. The small movement was an invitation that the beast in Tony wanted to accept; Tony had to hold his own hips steady by force of will.

More than peace, Tony wanted the control, wanted to drive…

He bit down on the side of the older man's neck, letting him feel teeth, thrilled to the small shudder that rippled through Gibbs' body.

...Jethro…

Tony slipped his right hand under the edge of Jethro's shirt and spread his fingers wide in the hollow of the other man's back, let his thumb stroke and then ran it's edge down Jethro's spine. He was rewarded with a moan barely contained.

_...crazy_.

Finally, Tony thrust his hips forward even as he slid his hand down past the waistband of Gibbs' jeans in the back to pull him closer still. He kissed upwards until he was breathing hard and hot against Jethro's mouth. Jethro was almost panting himself and his eyes were shut. When Tony paused though, hovering over his lips, blue eyes almost sleepy with passion and arousal opened slowly to meet his.

Tony smiled in triumph, knew that this smile was almost cruel with satisfaction. _I did this. Mine. _He held his own desire in ruthless check and thought over the possibilities, letting Jethro wait, let the tension wind a little tighter. As if in answer to the steel in Tony's expression, Gibbs was curiously pliant and...not soft, no never soft...patient. Again, to these signs of submission, Tony wanted to growl, wanted to spring and push and bite, and now he felt his control waver, saw the watchful acceptance in Gibbs'...Jethro's...gaze sharpen.

"What do you want?" Gibbs ground out.

Tony's control took another hit at the question, and to regain it, he pressed his mouth to the other man's, delving deep with his tongue and pushing hard enough that Jethro's head was bent back, neck bared further. Tony's right hand came to rest on the other man's throat, curling gently around even as the strength of his fingers against windpipe and cartilage was ripe with the potential for violence. Gibbs moaned and his mouth moved hungrily under Tony's.

Tony lifted his lips just enough that he could meet Gibbs' eyes again. Gibbs' eyes continued to meet his, unafraid but lambent, hazy, and half-closed. Tony saw, _felt_, Jethro swallow, and rasp out again.

"_What. Do you. Want?"_

Tony sealed his mouth to the other man's again, his right hand sliding up thread through hair to cup and hold Jethro's face against his. Jethro didn't seem to want to escape, though, and let the younger man take what he wanted even as his own left hand came to rest at Tony's waist.

Tony had to stop, or this would be over, over too soon, and he reared back, ripping his mouth from Jethro's, gaining just enough distance to confess.

"I want your mouth on my cock. That's what I want." And Tony waited, and when Jethro didn't say anything, didn't move, just looked steadily at Tony, he released the older man from his hold, leaving him free to decide.

Tony's stomach dropped when Jethro slipped out around him, stalking to the door. So shaken was he by thwarted arousal and disappointment that he had fucked this up that he wouldn't get any closer tonight—_closer to what?_— that he had to brace himself against the counter, warm from Jethro's hands. His head hung as he tried to regain breath and the will to move, to go—

"You coming?"

He spun at the sound of Gibbs' voice. Gibbs eyebrows were up in question and his eyes danced with laughter, knowing what Tony thought. But his mouth was kind and rueful and twitched a little before he was gone. The sound of Gibbs' feet padding up the stairs was the sweetest sound Tony had heard all day.

**LJG & TD**

They hadn't broken any of the rules they had set yet, not the spoken ones anyway. But Tony thought that it probably was an unspoken rule that they not have sex in the daytime. That said, Tony didn't think he had ever experienced anything more arousing than watching Jethro go down on him in the late afternoon sunshine streaming through the windows of the bedroom. All the experience in the world would not have made it better and when he had taken Tony to a place beyond his wildest grownup fantasies, Jethro finally let Tony go, let Tony's soft cock slip from the warmth of his mouth. His lips kissed a trail from hip to neck where he rested, letting his body stretch and press against Tony's.

Tony pushed and Jethro fell back, head between the two pillows of the double bed, and Tony kissed his eyes shut.

"Tony, you...your hand, just...just…" Tony knew the words and even now, even though the other man was all but lost in a sexual trance, he could see that Jethro wasn't comfortable with them—_touch me, jack me_—and he moved to meet his lover's need, fumbling for the button and zipper of his jeans but otherwise not trying to take his pants off. Pulling it out, Tony wrapped his palm around Jethro's cock, hard and tight and wet at the tip, and bent forward to draw Jethro's pleasure out with his mouth on the other man's mouth. He whispered between kisses. "Let go. Jethro. Let me make you feel good, feel as good as you made me feel. Jesus, ba—- your mouth on my cock. You should have seen it. I could have come just from watching. Are you with me, Jethro? With _me_? Let go, Jethro. _Let go let go let go_."

And Jethro arched violently up, his body bent backwards even as he hooked a hand around Tony's neck to keep their mouths fused together and Tony swallowed his lover's high holy moans of release and ecstasy, shivering a little at the intimacy and thinking that nothing _nothing_ had ever felt as good as this.

While Jethro lay quiet and spent, Tony retrieved a washcloth, cleaned his lover's body best he could, and tossed the cloth toward the bathroom door. He put his jeans on, and climbed back onto the bed. He reclined on his side of the bed—_he had a side?_ —and reached out to thread the fingers of his left hand through Jethro's right, otherwise not touching.

Tony couldn't believe that Jethro had given up control the way he had and felt renewed desire even now pooling at the thought of it. He also acknowledged to himself that he had almost called Gibbs an endearment which might be the craziest fucking thing yet in this strangely functional relationship.

Tony felt Gibbs squeeze his hand twice, then release him and sit up just as his own stomach growled. Gibbs grinned down at him, and then swung his legs off the bed to stand and zip up. Tony stayed where he was, enjoying the sight of his lover dressing. Gibbs knew it, too, because he ostentatiously put on his own shirt before bending to grab and toss Tony's own at him where he lay.

"Want to get something to eat?"

Tony couldn't help but tease him, the ease of being together and the satisfied light in Gibbs' eye tempting him. "Oh, I don't know. I really only came over to get laid. Now that I got what I came for— AHHHHH!" Tony screamed like a girl as Gibbs launched himself onto the bed. _Jesus_. _Playful Gibbs was even better than Sexy Gibbs_, Tony thought before he started laughing, Gibbs kissing his neck and face until Tony cried uncle.

"Damn, Gibbs, when you let go, you really let go." Breathless, Tony sat up. Gibbs, always surprisingly fast, was already up and shoving his feet into the oldest pair of sneakers Tony had ever seen.

"You coming?" the older man shot a look over his shoulder before heading downstairs.

"Yep." Pleasantly uncertain of what would happen next, Tony followed.


	7. Chapter 7: Tony Goes Clubbing

A/N: Thank you to fluffybird, without whom I would not have begun to read Tony and Gibbs stories and then accidentally written one myself. Quirky, funny, and clever, she is an excellent person to have at one's side.

* * *

Didn't happen often but every once in a while Gibbs had to leave home late on a Friday night to pick Abby up from some club or shadowy underground...establishment, to drive her home. He never got an answer as to what happened but he got the feeling it was because she wasn't leaving with who she thought she would be. One time, a person—gender was hard to identify—had tried to stop them but a dark glance and a single step closer from Jethro had caused the loud objection to trail off into a petulant, "What? Did you call your _father_, Abby?"

Not this Friday night, though. Tonight he had to call Abby, and the rest of the team. Body found offshore and was being transported through the night. They didn't have to go into the office until 7 tomorrow morning, but he wanted to give them a heads up. He wasn't especially thrilled at the idea of working with a hung over Tony and he had overheard him making plans with friends in from out of town. When Abby picked up and he only knew she had because of the cacophony of what only she might call music flooding through the receiver, he knew she was out tonight.

"Abby?!" He shouted into the receiver.

"Just a minute, Gibbs!" The music continued to pulse down the wire. _They don't use wires anymore, do they?_ Finally, the noise cut off abruptly and he could hear cars in the background.

"Hi, Gibbs. Sorry about that? What's up?"

"Abs, we picked up a case—"

"D'you need me to come in now—"

"No, but first thing tomorrow. Okay?"

"Okey Dokey. Do you want me to—hey get your hands off of her!"

"Abby, you okay?"

"Fine, Gibbs, no problem. I have friends here. See you tomorrow." And the line went dead.

Gibbs shook his head, kept calling. Next, Tony. He hadn't seen much of Tony outside of work recently, not since the Voss case and the aftermath. Oh, Tony'd been around enough to make it clear that things were okay between them, back to normal, and Gibbs, for his part, had let him think that, letting him sit on the steps, even making steaks for them once. But things weren't okay. The first two times, as Tony had implied, could have been written off as "just sex", but the third…

Gibbs ran a hand across his tired face. _Fuck. What the hell was wrong with him?_

Shaking it off, leaving whatever this was for later, or to work itself out, he dialed Tony.

"Yeah, Boss?!" Tony's voice was loud over what Gibbs was almost certain was exactly the same noise that he had heard when he called Abby.

"Tony, we've got a case. Be at the office at 0700 tomorrow morning."

"Wait a second, Boss, I can't hear you!" Again, the long wait with the most hideous "hold" music ever. Again, the abrupt cut-off and the sound of cars.

"Wow, that was louder than I thought. We have a case, Boss?"

"Yeah, DiNozzo, but the body won't be here until tomorrow morning. Be in the office at 7." Gibbs could hear Abby in the background. "Tony is that Gibbs? Say hi for me."

Tony's voice held a smile. "Gibbs, Abby says hi. Do you—"

Gibbs just hung up, exasperated although smiling himself. Ducky. He dialed.

_For Chrissakes, _he couldn't help but think when he heard the same damn music a _third_ time. What the hell was Ducky doing there?

"Yes, Jethro? Just a moment, let me step into the men's room. This music is terribly loud." Ducky continued to talk for the few minutes it took to get into the men's room.

"What the hell are you doing there with Tony and Abby, Duck?"

"Oh, did you speak to them as well? We must have a case. I don't think that Tony is drinking, Jethro. He can drive us into the office."

"Nah, Duck. Don't need you til tomorrow morning. 0700. Okay?"

"Yes of course, Jethro. I'll be there with bells on."

"Not necessary, Duck. Why are you there?"

"Oh, well, when I was leaving this evening, Tony and Abby were also departing for the day. Both had arranged gatherings of their friends—I believe Tony has frat brothers in from out of town and Abby, also, has a prodigal roommate home for the weekend and had assembled a group of friends in celebration. They decided that it would be enjoyable and potentially amusing to join the two groups together. They invited me, and I have to admit, it reminded me rather forcefully of the time that I was in Lisbon—"

"Duck, I don't need to know all this. Do you need a ride home?"

"Well, yes. I would appreciate that. We're at Enigma, on 7th. Tony is the group's designated driver so he said he would drive me home but I really am ready to go, and I don't want to spoil his evening—'

"On my way, Duck—" And, cutting off the sounds of his friends continued narrative, he hung up. Should he bother to call Kate, or just tell her when he got to the club? Ah, what the hell...he dialed.

Kate answered on the second ring. "Hello?" Blessed silence. Or rather the muted clink of forks and glasses and low voices.

"Kate, we have a body. Nothing to do right now but wait but be in the office at 7."

"Sure, Gibbs. Is there anything you want me to do before then?"

"Nope. Just meet us there."

"Okay, have nice evening." Gibbs hung up without answering, smiling a little, knowing that Kate would make some comment about "her boss, who really needed to learn to learn some telephone etiquette." He wondered if she was on a date. _Dwayne_, didn't Tony say? He made a note to find out the last name and check this guy out.

He made good time, and when Gibbs got to the club, he didn't see Ducky waiting outside. And he was kind of curious...Tony's fratboy friends and Abby's bunch of weirdos—and he meant that in the nicest possible way—could be interesting…

He parked and made his way to the club. There was no line, and the bouncer did not check his ID, just tried to collect the $10 cover. Gibbs told him he was only there to pick someone up and after a staring contest Gibbs was sure to win, the man eventually gave up and stepped aside for Gibbs to enter.

He'd swear it was the same damn song beating into his skull. The inside was hot and heavy with twice-breathed air, but the faces and body language were sweaty and happy. There was a knack to reading a crowd, a bar or nightclub, and what he saw reassured Gibbs. The best ones were always well organized-had enough staff on duty, knew and catered to their audience, watched for and dealt with trouble. Gibbs made his way through the room, dark but for strobes and some spotlighting over the tables ringing the dance floor.

He spotted Tony first, his stomach dropping and unwanted arousal welling up without permission. Tony was dancing, and while he seemed to be with more than one person, Gibbs couldn't look away from him long enough to check. He was not dressed up, as Gibbs would have expected. Instead he was in jeans and a t-shirt, but not an old one, a white one that Gibbs was sure didn't come in a three pack. Probably would keep Gibbs in coffee for a month, what that shirt cost. Tony was smiling at the tall, willowy Goth girl jumping around and against him until he reached out and picked her up, biceps bulging, and spun her around. His head turned as if hearing a call and Gibbs watched him smile at someone nearby. Gibbs scanned the dancers and saw a tall blonde man, buzz cut hair, and bright blue eyes, dancing with another of Abby's friends, he guessed, but grinning and laughing at something as he called out to Tony.

Eyes back on Tony, Gibbs wasn't surprised to see Tony-mouth still moving, talking-start scanning the crowd himself. Tony was good—almost as good as Gibbs—at reading a crowd, and Tony liked to be aware of his surrounding as much as Gibbs did. In this case, though, Tony seemed to be looking for something or someone specific.

While he stood watching Tony, Gibbs had allowed himself to be gently buffeted by people moving past him coming or going, best way to go unnoticed. He was knocked rudely to the side, however, by a pack of giggling women squeezing between him and a nearby table. Perhaps it was the sudden move, but Tony's eyes were suddenly on his.

**LJG&TD**

The minute Gibbs was out of the room, Tony threw on his clothes and left. He knew Gibbs _would_ freak out this time, and that wasn't in his plan. As if he had one. He just had to do something, had to wipe out the memory of Voss' mouth, the scene at the bar, Gibbs eyes meeting his over the dead body lying between them. He hoped that maybe Gibbs needed him, or at the very least would want him. And he _knew_ Gibbs felt guilty, out of control. So, he figured, he could give Gibbs control. And that was definitely some of the hottest sex of his life. And some of the sweetest. The memory of Gibbs mouth moving on his spine in the moments just before and after they...well, that was a really good memory, one that he'd replayed more than once in bed at night, hand between his legs.

And if what he wanted by going to Gibbs that night was to make an impact, it worked. He got a reaction. Where the first two times, they had continued to work without any perceptible difference, this time, Gibbs had changed how he interacted with Tony. He was cool, but not cold. He pretended not to hear things that would make him slap or _touch _Tony in any way, or banter. He paired them up so he wasn't with Tony as much. He brought others in on conversations he would have had with Tony alone. Oh, it was subtle. No one else noticed a thing. But Tony knew that he had affected Gibbs, or reached him, or demanded something of him, or received something. Something had happened that night that caused the man to pull back. _Good_. Tony thought, fiercely. Even if it meant it never happened again.

**LJG&TD**

The place was crowded and there was no one to notice the two men staring at one another. Tony's dance partner had turned to include another woman in their dance and the two were now dancing together. Gibbs' attention was caught by this for a minute as the two women got close enough to qualify for entry level porn. Gibbs was no prude, and his eyes slid to Tony once again, catching the way one girl reached out for Tony's hand and slipped it around her back.

_Jesus. _ Gibbs did not know what to make of it all. He could spend the whole day with the man and not be bothered by his antics and flirting and general Tony-ish way of being, but now...now…

he just wanted to_ fuck him_. There was no kidding himself about this. He didn't want the women to come, so it wasn't some kinky three- or foursome fantasy. He didn't want to do it here, so he hadn't—_thank Christ_—stumbled upon latent exhibitionist tendencies. But in the relative dark of the club, colored lights and music pulsing all around, he had a preternatural awareness of Tony. He could smell him, as if he was standing right up against him. He could see, or envision so clearly that it was as if he was seeing, the fine detail of skin and bone and muscle as he crawled over him. Tony's cheekbones, high and prominent, were thrown into high relief by the strobes on the dance floor. Jethro wanted to rest his fingers on Tony's neck, wanted to stroke those fine bones with his thumb until Tony's eyes closed and then he wanted to force Tony to keep them open.

So lost was he in these thoughts that he watched Tony disengage from his partners—moving his eyes away from Jethro's for just the few seconds needed to leave the girls with a brush of his lips on a cheek or a shouted word in her ear—and wind his way through the crowd without anxiety, with nothing but anticipation, actually. When Tony got close, he reached out and gently moved a woman out of the way to take the last few steps to his boss. She looked up in irritation but flushed and smiled when he apologized and smiled down at her. When Tony stood before Jethro, green eyes on blue again, he was no longer perfectly confident. Gibbs thought he looked uncertain, actually. His smile was hesitant but he spoke with DiNozzo bravado.

"Gibbs."

"Tony." They had to speak up to be heard over the music.

Tony looked over his shoulder, nodded his head toward the bar. "You want a drink?" Pleased with himself for not tacking a "sailor" onto the end like he wanted to. Sexual innuendo was always his default when was nervous.

"No." Gibbs looked around for Ducky, but not finding him, allowed his eyes to go where they wanted. Tony. "Thanks." He added. Tony's eyes were bright, skin tanned against the white shirt. He looked hot and sweaty and happy. Jethro wished he was responsible for that. _Fuck. What was happening to him?_

Tony just stood across from him, hands jammed into his pockets. He tried again, glancing back at the dance floor. "Dance?" He grinned at Gibbs, knowing how ridiculous the offer was.

Gibbs laughed and grinned back. "Yeah, DiNozzo, that's why I came. To dance."

Tony asked, for the first time, "Why _are_ you here?" And then answered his own question almost immediately, in unison with Gibbs. "_To get Ducky._"

They both looked but Ducky didn't materialize. Tony decided to bail, even though he was starting to realize for himself how sorry he was that this _thing_ that he and Gibbs had started was over almost before it had begun. Maybe he would have handled things differently if he had it to do over again. Then again, he didn't have a whole lot of experience with setting out to have even a medium-term relationship. "Well...thanks for coming to get Ducky."

"Not a problem."

The two men fell silent, aided by how difficult it was to be heard in the noisy room. Gibbs didn't know what else to say but he didn't want to turn away either. He saw Tony shift, knew he was going to say goodbye and walk away, and Gibbs swallowed, tried to think of what to say, and then Tony smiled, a goodbye of sorts, and Gibbs couldn't even smile back, just kept his eyes on Tony as if that would keep him there a few seconds longer, but Tony was turning and Gibbs reached out, and

It was a clumsy sort of non-movement. But the second Gibbs' fingers touched Tony's, flung out as they were at the last minute to try to catch the younger man, Tony's head spun around in shock. Eyes wide, he looked at Jethro. And now, for the first time, Tony was completely still, braced. Gibbs watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed. Gibbs' wasn't even touching him anymore, but even that brief connection had sizzled through both men. Gibbs could see it in the shining eyes, narrowed a little in thought or anticipation, felt it in his stomach, low, when Tony's eyes held his again.

Gibbs finally growled out, "After this case is over, maybe we should...talk?"

And whatever he saw in Tony's face then—something new and joyous and possessive—scared the ever loving fuck out of him. But it was gone as soon as it had come. Suddenly, when Gibbs felt as _unlike himself_, as uncomfortable and out of his depth as he ever had, Tony seemed to regain his confidence. His shoulders relaxed and his hands came out of his pockets. He looked around the club and satisfied, apparently, by what he saw or didn't see, he moved a little bit closer, letting the crowd move him naturally forward until he could complete the motion Gibbs started, slipping his fingers into the older man's palm and squeezing a little. Leaned forward to speak close to Gibbs' ear, "Yeah. I'd like that. _Ducky!" _and just as easy as that, they were not touching and Tony was regaling Gibbs with a sitrep on the evening, the club, and Ducky's dance with Abby, pulling Ducky forward with an arm around his shoulder and walking them through the crowd to the door.

And Jethro could feel the heat of Tony's words on his skin still. It wasn't until much much later that night, having had one drink at Ducky's and then come home, that he sat in the dark on his back porch, thinking hard. For the first time in...well, maybe for the first time ever, the basement felt too closed in. And it was then, sitting in the old aluminum folding chair with the plaid nylon straps that came from his uncle's camp, only then, that he allowed his hand to touch his cheek, feel for the imprint of Tony's breath on his face.

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A/N: I would not be sorry to hear from you. :-)


	8. Chapter 8: Talk

A/N: This one came hard. I needed this chapter. They need it, but I'm not sure I got them right. Or rather, I'm sure I didn't but not sure how much so. Well, I will just say that they said what they wanted, I guess. I'm just here to help. Thanks for reading. I appreciate everyone who has read, or favorited, or followed, or reviewed. I am always so glad to hear from you. Sqs.

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The case took a week to solve and it was after eighteen hundred hours on the next Friday evening when Gibbs finally let the team go with orders not to come back to work until Tuesday. Tony left with the others, but then reappeared a few minutes later, walking slowly to a stop next to his own desk to square a pile of papers on the corner. He glanced over at the only person left working.

Gibbs was watching, and when their eyes met, he asked the silent question.

"Told them I forgot something."

Gibbs nodded. Waited.

Tony still had his backpack on and his right hand was toying with the edges of the papers, but he finally got out, "You wanted to talk. Should I come over tomorrow?"

Not one person in a million could have seen that Gibbs made his decision in that moment. Tony felt it in his bones.

"Tonight." Gibbs checked his watch, missing the way a little of the tension left Tony's body. "My place at 9?"

Tony checked the time for himself, flipping his phone open, wondering if he should offer to wait.

"Got a problem with that, DiNozzo?"

"No, no problem, boss. Gibbs. I guess I'll just...see you there." And he spun around, went back into the still open elevator, and to avoid Gibbs' eyes, looked up at the ceiling while the doors closed.

**LJG&TD**

Tony drove home and changed, on autopilot, trying not to think about the upcoming talk. Work this week had been reassuring, more normal than the week before. Gibbs had even complimented him once, which was nice, but otherwise had been his usual gruff, straightforward, all-knowing self.

The car was in the drive, and so when Tony got to Gibbs' house, he let himself in through the unlocked door. More lights were on than usual...kitchen, hall, and living room, plus he could see the glow from the basement and light coming from upstairs. He listened but didn't hear anything, no clue as to where Gibbs was. He was betting on the basement and headed for the partially opened door just as he heard footsteps padding down the steps from upstairs.

"Gibbs?"

"Right here." Gibbs appeared. He had on an old t-shirt and even older jeans, old enough that they weren't as baggy as some of his newer ones. They looked good. _He_ looked good, and Tony knew he was in trouble.

"You want to grab us a couple of beers?"

"Sure." Squelched the automatic response. _I'm on it._ Too much like work.

When he returned, Gibbs was standing by the couch. Tony handed him two beers and Gibbs smiled a little. "You figure this is a two-beer talk?"

Tony returned the smile and said, "I figure it might be a _more_ than two-beer talk. But if it is, we're probably going to want to go get the bourbon."

Gibbs nodded but his smile hadn't lingered. He seemed serious and kind of distracted. Tony wondered if maybe this was how Gibbs did nervous. Not an emotion he had seen in Gibbs often. Ever? In any case, Tony didn't blame him. Looking around, Tony sat on the edge of one of the upholstered living room chairs, pulling it closer to the couch and placing his spare beer on the coffee table. Gibbs sat across from him, on the front edge of the couch, as if he might get up at any moment, but he left the coffee table where it was so that there was nothing blocking the space between them. Tony took this as a good sign.

"So. We are going to talk. You invited me here to talk."

Gibbs nodded, but didn't say anything. He finally said, "I don't know how to start. Maybe we should forget it. This was a bad idea." He started to stand.

Tony stayed where he was, having half expected this, but held calming hands up. "Gibbs. _Gibbs_. Just...just talk to me the way you usually would, okay?"

Gibbs—impossible to think of him as Gibbs in this moment—sat back down slowly, rolled his eyes. "When do we talk like this at work?"

"Just sit down. Ask what you want to know. Say what you want to say. Bark, growl. Just don't head slap me."

Gibbs seem to think about that. Lifted the beer to his lips and polished the first beer off. Dropped the empty onto a side table and shifted himself on the couch again. His ass was just barely on the edge and his hands rubbed a single path down his thighs before stilling. Practically fireworks, in Gibbs' body language. "How many...how have...have you been... with...men before?"

Tony answered right away, openly. "Never more than one night. So really, just sex. But I don't think that we would be here now, talking, if what we were...are...doing...is just sex." He met _Gibbs's _eyes with a question in his own, "Right?"

He had to give the man credit. Barely a pause. "Right."

Then there was a long pause. Gibbs said, "Your turn."

"_My _turn?"

"Yeah. _Your_ turn."

Tony decided not to fight this battle. "Okaaaay...have you been with women since that first night?"

"Yes. Three times."

"_Three times!?_"

"Yes, three times. I wanted to check. You didn't, haven't?"

"Well, yeah, but I just didn't expect you...I just didn't know that you had."

Gibbs seemed genuinely confused. "How would you know?"

"I don't know, I'm an investigator. I just figured I would see you, I don't know, getting picked up or making a call or something."

"What about you?"

"Actually, now that I think about it...three times."

"Only three? It's been months."

"Yeah, well…" Tony felt defensive all of a sudden. "I...didn't accept every offer. In fact, I haven't accepted any since the second time we were together."

Gibbs was unreadable and his response was equally uninformative. "Huh."

Unsure of what to make of that, Tony continued on to the second part of his question, "So, was the sex any different those three times? Oh, and same woman or different women?" A thought occurred to him, "You weren't with any...men...were you?"

"No!"

"Okay okay, I just wanted to—"

"What about you?"

"No, no men. Honestly, Gibbs, I've only ever been with a handful of men, maybe 5, most in college, only once since I moved to D.C."

"Okay. Well, two different women. And about the quality of the sex. I would say that it was…the same. The same sex has always been for me since...since—"

Tony swallowed and took the step. "Shannon?"

Gibbs had continued to sit forward on the edge of the couch, elbows on knees. Now, he let his head drop between his shoulders and sighed, almost in relief. "Yeah. Sex is just sex since then. With my exes—" He interrupted himself, glanced up at Tony. "Honestly, I thought I was past all this."

Tony couldn't keep the horrified shock from his voice. "You thought you were _past sex_?"

Gibbs grunted, amused, and ran a hand over his face, "No, not sex. Just being at the mercy of it." He continued to speak even as his fingers massaged his forehead a little, like he was getting a headache. Tony wasn't sure he'd ever seen Gibbs give so much away in his body language, and he watched and listened, fascinated, even as he wondered which way this would break for him. "I figure this is one of two things. Casual. Or," he barely paused, "serious." The bright blue eyes were cold on his...defensive maybe? Tony continued to catalogue Gibbs' reactions even as he responded to his words.

"There is a third option." His own voice was hoarse, he noted. Tight with his own nervousness. He wanted this. More than he was comfortable with. So he couldn't leave it hanging out there. "We just stop now."

For the first time tonight there was no hesitation from Gibbs. "Not an option."

"What? Why?" Neither had looked away but still Gibbs moved so fast that Tony was almost surprised when he felt the heat of the other man's mouth on his, so welcome after weeks of abstinence. Lips sliding and pressing, hard, aggressive, against his own, tongue licking into his mouth, the _taste_ of Gibbs. In the end, it was the calloused warmth, strength, of Gibbs' hand cupping his face that drew a small needy sound from Tony. At the sound, Gibbs drew away, sat back down. Again, very few people could have read the look in Gibbs' cool eyes, his calm face. _Smug bastard_.

With no other option but croaking, Tony cleared his throat, picked up an earlier thread rather than answering the latest question. "Your exes—?"

A small pause while Gibbs picked up his train of thought. "For a long time now sex has been...just sex. With the wives it was both a little better and a little worse."

Tony must have looked confused because Gibbs elaborated.

"Better cause it's always better once you know what the other person likes, but worse because I was always thinking. I just couldn't...lose myself." He looked up at Tony and for the first time, Tony felt like Gibbs was going to say something _real_. Something he _wanted_ to say instead of something he felt he _had_ to say. He held his breath and made sure that his expression was open, non-judgmental, and that he didn't blink. "I didn't know I wanted to. I didn't know I missed it, losing myself in another person. I...I didn't know. Until I had it again." The other man looked like he had stopped short of finishing his thought.

"With me." Tony said.

Gibbs didn't drop his head this time, but his shoulders slumped a little and he softly rasped out an affirmative. "Yeah."

"Hey, Gibbs?"

"Yeah?"

"I know we are supposed to be talking right now but could we take a break?"

"What? This...don't you want to—" Tony stood but didn't straighten, just leaned forward from where he had sat across from the other man and pressed his lips to Gibbs'.

And it was sweet. This kiss didn't seek to make a point, to compel. It was an answer to a question, and it was so sweet that neither man knew what to do next. Tony's hands and arms were held out at his sides, uncertain of where to land or what to do, afraid of any touch but the one where everything between them had risen up. Gibbs's body was frozen in place but his mouth was mobile and welcoming. He made his own little sound of pleasure and pushed forward a little even as he opened his mouth in invitation. Tony thought that he was starting to see that this was such a Gibbs thing to do, to be demanding and giving at the same time. Both men thought briefly that the taste of the other was now familiar, comforting and arousing both.

When the kiss ended, and neither man could have said who ended it, they parted just enough to be able to look each other in the eyes. Tony suddenly felt the stress of holding his body in a hunched position and moved to sit next to Gibbs on the couch, changed his mind at a panicked look from the older man, and went back to his position across from him.

"Okay, so do you want to know what I think?"

"_Yes_, _Jesus _I hope you have some idea of what to do next." The frustration in Gibbs's voice was almost funny, and Tony snorted a little.

"You, letting me lead? Has hell frozen over?"

At the glint in Gibbs' eye, Tony raised an eyebrow in warning. "No head slaps at home." _Home._ The word had impact, but Tony ignored it, plowed ahead. "Let's assume for a minute that we are going to keep...exploring...this...thing between us."

Gibbs gave a short nod.

"So maybe we should have some rules, rules that would give us some idea of what to expect maybe."

"What kind of rules?" Gibbs said with brutal honesty, "Like the one we are breaking?"

"We're not _dating_."

Gibbs expression said he was willing to break the rule, not pretend that he wasn't breaking it. Tony forged ahead.

"Well, obviously, we keep our personal rel— connection, out of the office, out of work."

"Meaning secret?"

"Well, that would be a separate rule I think. Even if we told someone, we still wouldn't want it to affect work, right?"

"Yes. So #1. Keep it separate from work."

"What about secret?"

Gibbs paused before answering. "How about for now. I don't know, Tony—"

"Okay, that's fair. Rule #2. Private between us until or if we change that."

Gibbs had one. "#3. Only on weekends."

"What? Why?"

"That'll help keep it out of the office." Tony seemed disappointed but agreed.

"Alright." Tony's turn. "No spending the night."

"What? Why not?"

"I never spend the night."

"Never?"

"There have been a few times where circumstances drew things out, but never at my own place."

This seemed throw Gibbs like nothing had until now. "Really?"

Tony raised his voice, stood up, suddenly panicked, "Gibbs if this is a problem, then maybe we shouldn't do this—"

Gibbs stood up too, hands out, "No, no, fine, Tony. If it's important you, but here's my own line:: no one else. I don't know where this is going but if you want to be with someone else, you will tell me. And this'll be over." He waved his hand between them, didn't seem angry. "No harm, no foul. I know you flirt and will still be...well, _you_, and that's okay. I trust you." Tony didn't think Gibbs had ever actually _said_ the words before. I mean, he _knew it_, he was pretty sure, had been sure, but hearing it was good. "But if you want something else, someone else, you tell me."

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yeah, fine. Sit down?"

Gibbs slowly sunk onto the couch again. Tony sat back down on his chair. "What about sex?"

"What about sex?" Gibbs seemed genuinely confused.

"Well, do you have any...concerns...about the sex?"

"Tony, what the hell are you talking about?"

"Well, guy/guy sex is...different...than guy/girl sex and I thought maybe—"

Gibbs snorted, but was a little pink in the face. "Tony, sex got us into this mess. I think we're doing okay. We'll figure it out."

Tony felt surprisingly buoyed by this assertion. "Oh. Well, okay then. So any other rules?"

"Not that I can think of right now." Tony stood, holding out a hand to keep Gibbs in place and walked around the coffee table to sit next to him. Gibbs had the same wary look he had before but this time Tony didn't let it stop him. He sat close, so their legs were touching, but sat _on _the couch cushion, comfortably leaning back. After a minute, looking at Tony over his shoulder, Gibbs shrugged and scooted back so that they were shoulder to shoulder and thigh to thigh.

Tony leaned his head back and blew out a deep breath, trying to relax. He considered taking Gibbs's hand but thought it would feel weird. Not too weird for him but maybe for Gibbs. Gibbs. _Jethro? _Damn, this was strange. He turned his head instead, enjoying the close up view of the other man's profile. When Gibbs didn't turn to look at him though, and in fact, seemed deep in thought, Tony leaned his head back again and closed his eyes.

With his eyes shut, Tony's whole world narrowed to the warmth at shoulder, arm, hip, thigh. He could smell the other man: deodorant, wood, coffee, sweat...no fresh scent of soap or shampoo, so he hadn't showered. He could hear Gibbs's breathing, deep and even. He felt himself relaxing, thinking he hadn't even needed the second beer which was probably warm now anyway.

He was so relaxed, he was truly surprised when Gibbs kissed him.

"Shhhhh." Gibbs murmured when Tony jumped. "Keep your eyes closed." Helpless against the feel of Gibbs's mouth, his low-voiced order, Tony subsided but he could feel his heart beating wildly, felt the surge of desire sweep through him, felt the triumph and excitement at being with the other man again, without feeling like it might all stop at any moment.

"Okay. Gibbs." The lips against his smiled and pressed a little harder. "You're in charge." Harder still, but then Gibbs backed off. Tony sensed the muscles in Gibbs' body tense as the other man leaned over farther, and Tony shivered as the calloused pads of the older man's fingers slipped behind Tony's neck, pushed under the neck of his shirt to touch the sensitive skin of his upper back. Tony arched a little, letting out an involuntary moan and Gibbs took advantage to really _kiss _him.

_Fuck but the man could kiss. _ Strong lips drew out his tongue, sucked on each of his lips in turn. Gibbs's tongue was quick and hungry, and while his left hand braced against Tony's shoulder, his right cupped his face and pressed into his jaw, forcing Tony to open his mouth wider. Even as Gibbs took everything Tony had to give, and more, his right hand travelled up to touch along his eyelid, along his temple, down the side of his face to stroke lightly behind his ear. Gibbs drew the kiss to a close with smaller, almost more intimate kisses, sipping and teasing, as if he couldn't stay away. Like he wanted to move away, but couldn't. Tony was glad his eyes were shut because he felt the prick of tears. Gibbs's mouth moved to follow his fingers, making their circuit again. Eyelid, temple, down his face to kiss and nuzzle under his ear, down his neck.

When Gibbs opened his mouth over the hollow of Tony's throat, his hand slipped under Tony's t-shirt to touch his belly, to travel lightly up his side, to pass over the hardened point of his nipples until Tony couldn't stay passive any longer, sitting up and dipping his own head to initiate another kiss.

And now Tony did take Gibbs's hand, standing and pulling the other man up with him, slipping his own hands under Gibbs's shirt, pulling until their chests were straining against one another and hot hands explored and teased until they both panted with need.

"Stay here." Gibbs commanded against Tony's mouth. The feel of his lips, soft and slightly chapped, rubbing against his own, made Tony shiver. He stayed, watching Gibbs stalk around downstairs, turning off all the lights but the kitchen, even locking the door, before coming back to Tony, giving him one last choice.

"If you aren't upstairs in twenty seconds, I'm going to fuck you right here."

Tony smiled, unafraid.


	9. Chapter 9: Breaking a Rule

**A/N: **If not for the last two dreadful days of work and worry, I don't think I would have written this chapter. Which makes it seem like this chapter is about work or worry and it isn't! I just wanted to remind myself that something good came from it all. Not the least that I sought advice on the military from my my favorite simian editor and expert. She will remain nameless but you have her to thank for the lack of several truly astonishing spelling errors. Any that still remain are my own fault. Thank you all for reading, and for sharing your thoughts, if you are so moved. Sqs. 1/14/13

* * *

**Fornell**: I realize how sad this sounds, but you're the closest thing I have to a friend, Gibbs.

**Gibbs**: You dying or something? Okay, not dying, just some part of a twelve step program?

**Fornell**: Are you gonna help me or not?

**Gibbs**: Thinking about it.

**Season 2, Ep. 5 The Boneyard**

* * *

When Tony and Gibbs broke the rules they had set for themselves—and they _did_ break them, every last one of them—it wasn't how they expected. And they _did_ expect to, whatever they told themselves at the beginning.

**LJG&TD**

Friday **or** Saturday night, not both, but almost always Sunday. It was kind of a surprise to Tony but he guessed it made sense. Gibbs needed a lot of alone time. And if Tony had been introspective that way, he might have wondered if Gibbs was an introvert, if maybe he needed this kind of space, or something like it, even when Shannon and Kelly were alive. But he wasn't. Introspective, that is. What he _was_ was Gibbs-centric, so the first weekend that Tony followed up a Friday night at _his_ apartment by casually wandering over to chez Gibbs the next night, a Saturday night, Tony knew within a half hour that Gibbs wasn't going to get any less grumpy. Just to fuck with the guy though—and because Tony was horny as hell and now irritated since he had hoped he was going to get laid—he pressed Gibbs right back against the boat, kissing him hard enough to bend his neck some and letting his fingers wander in the hollow of the other man's back. Gibbs' skin there was thin and sensitive and Tony loved the way it made the other man shiver. When he pulled away suddenly and headed for the stairs, Tony felt first triumph and then a thrill of dark pleasure when Gibbs' soft, mocking laughter followed him.

"Better than your boxing, Tony."

Tony walked back through the darkened house. Gibbs was not leaving the basement anytime soon. Before he reached the door, he could hear the scrape of chisel on wood behind him. Oh he knew there would be payback. He was counting on it.

**LJG&TD**

"You know what I miss? You know what I miss?" You know what I miss?" Tony thought about getting their attention by bouncing a balled up piece of paper off McGee's head, or making a paper Air Force 1 to fly into Kate's No Fly Zone, but this was more fun. Or, more annoying anyway. "You know what I miss? You know what I miss? You know what I miss? You know what I miss?"

"_What_, Tony?!" McGee and Kate said in unison, equal in irritation, both glaring at him from their desks.

"Oh, did I say that out loud? Well, since you asked, I was thinking about how much I miss really _good_ video games. Like Pong. Or Missile Command. Combat. Space Invaders. _Pac Man_."

McGee, despite his irritation, couldn't help himself. "You know, Tony, you can get emulators for all of those games. Here, let me show you."

Tony didn't really care about the games. He had always had a hard time sitting still, preferring to be outside playing around than to be inside. Movies were a different story. Other worlds to escape to after dark, when he was alone or all but alone in the house.

In any case, a long day looking through records and files without a single break or lead to take into the field and he could feel the tension building in the bullpen. Gibbs, fortunately, was at a meeting much of the morning and was now with the Director. It was only Thursday but he had snapped and snarled at everyone today; his presence wouldn't have made the hunt for a lead any easier.

As McJoystick tapped away at Tony's keyboard, complaining happily as he sorted through the best emulators—_whatever they were_—Tony waved jauntily over at Kate. "You know what else I miss, Kate?"

Kate's expression was sour, but she didn't just look up, she put down the papers she was pouring over, sat back in her chair and stretched. "Your big boy bike?"

Tony smirked and touched his nose in acknowledgment. "Nope. Although it was a pretty sweet ride. Huffy." He pretended to get lost in a dreamworld. Kate laughed.

Just then, McGee crowed. "I knew it!" With a flourish, he stood. "There you go, Tony. As good as the original. Pac Man. Although I was always partial to some of the early graphic adventure games like _Myst_ or, though they were before my time," Tony rolled his eyes at Kate, miming non-stop talking as McGee barrelled on, and his grin widened when Kate actually smiled back, "text adventure games, like...well, _Adventure_, was the earliest. Still around today actually—"

"McGee, what does this have to do with the dead petty officer?"

"Uh, nothing, Boss, Tony was just—" McGee practically leapt out of Tony's chair and was back in his own, pulling up the few new details he had been able to pull on the victim's financial life.

"Kate?" While Kate rattled off her news, Tony snuck a glance at Gibbs. _Tense. _ If he didn't know better, he'd say there was something more here than the dead petty officer. But he did know better. If something else was going on, Tony would know. His sources were impeccable.

Gibbs didn't twitch or glance away from Kate as he barked at Tony, "_What_ are you looking at, DiNozzo!?'

"Nothing, Boss." Tony answered automatically. "I was just thinking how smart it was for you to wear that coat today. Chilly out. And coffee too. Takes the edge off. Brrr." Finally his vamping had some effect and Gibbs glanced over. Kate had realized something while she was speaking and was bent over her folders. McGee was engrossed in geekery. And Gibbs was looking at Tony.

Tony expected the hard stare. Exasperation at best.

Instead, Gibbs looked _bleak_.

Tony blinked and stood a little straighter in surprise. Tipped his head just a little and narrowed his eyes at Gibbs. _What?_

Gibbs didn't answer in any way, just held his eyes for a moment more, long enough for Tony to notice the pounding of his own heart and the tightness in his throat. _What had happened? _

And then Gibbs had turned away and there were only two more hours before the end of the day, and despite the open case, they were told to go home since they were waiting for calls and test results that wouldn't be back until tomorrow morning at the latest. Gibbs went up to MTAC as they all departed, Tony lingering to see if he could get close to Gibbs to find out more, but Gibbs included him as he waved everyone out and Tony had already checked with his best snitches and there _really _wasn't anything major going on here. Must be something personal. _Personal_? With _Gibbs_?

He gave it until seven before allowing himself to drive over, see if Gibbs was home. Car was in the drive, a single light on in the kitchen, but not the outside light. There was nothing welcoming about the house at all and in fact, Tony was sure for once he would find the door locked.

But he didn't. He walked in, closed the screen and inner door behind him. Living room was dark and, he could see with a glance in, the kitchen was neat and empty. Tony paced through to the door to the basement, open a crack, with light coming through. The door swung open at his touch and he didn't hear anyone moving around. Nothing. But Tony, he always _knew _when a room was occupied and of course, he could feel Gibbs' presence from a mile away. He slipped his shoes off, wriggled his toes and flexed his feet against the ends of his oldest jeans, and padded down the stairs slowly, defenseless. He hadn't brought food or drink. Just himself.

When he was finally low enough, deep enough, into the basement to look, his eyes went unerringly to Gibbs. Seated on a stool at the workbench, the man was leaning on the scarred surface, gazing at the tools, at nothing, glass jar of bourbon in his hand. Tony flicked a glance at the floor. Still swept clean from the last time Gibbs worked down here, so he continued across to the bench. Stood behind him, thought that this is where he was meant to be, standing behind Gibbs.

He put out a slow hand, swept his palm across Gibbs' back, rubbing in wide arcs. Gibbs didn't startle, and his head sank a little as he pressed back into Tony's touch. Tony brought his other hand up and started to gently work the knots out of Gibbs' neck and shoulders. He thought about asking Gibbs what was wrong but then figured Gibbs would tell him, if he wanted him to know.

"Shouldn't go barefoot in the basement." Harsh and low.

"I know," Tony didn't stop what he was doing and was gratified when Gibbs pressed back into his hands the tiniest bit more, "but I'm a daredevil. My fans expect it."

Gibbs allowed the the ongoing touch and Tony let the silence stretch, their breathing and the comfortable rasp of Tony's hands against Gibbs' shirt the only sounds.

Finally, Gibbs grunted. "What are you doing here?"

Tony wanted to lean over and kiss the man. Behind the ear, down the back of his jaw. Press his face to the skin of Gibbs' neck from behind and wrap his arms around him. But from the way Gibbs was stiffening and sitting up straighter, he knew it and they weren't there yet. Gibbs spun around on the stool and stood, stepping into Tony so that Tony was forced to back up and make way. Brushing by the younger man, Gibbs walked to the boat, put his hands against the side.

"Gibbs?" Tony ventured.

Gibbs turned his head. His eyes didn't give anything away but Tony could see, he wasn't drunk.

"What happened?"

Gibbs just shook his head, once. Tony didn't know what he meant by it so he just waited.

"I…" Gibbs cleared his throat, looked away, looked back, and his face wasn't quite as expressionless but Tony still didn't know what he was asking for, what he should do. He waited, sure that sympathy would be unwelcome.

"I...a friend of mine," an almost imperceptible hesitation, "died." Having gotten that out, Gibbs moved swiftly up the stairs and out of the basement, leaving Tony staring after him. Tony took the stairs two at a time, found Gibbs in the kitchen, standing in front of a cupboard.

"You want something to drink?"

"Sure." Tony answered, then asked a question of his own. "Are you hungry?"

"Not really." Tony knew that meant that Gibbs hadn't eaten recently, maybe not since lunch.

"Well, I'm hungry," Tony moved forward, pushed Gibbs aside to reach for a cupboard, "I'm pretty...sure...I saw some tomatoes in here. A ha!" He smiled a little, holding a big can. "I'll make us some pasta. You take a shower."

Gibbs looked like he would object, and Tony repeated, made it an order. "Go. Take a shower. Come back. Eat. Then we'll figure it out."

When Gibbs still hesitated, Tony put the can on the counter, took Gibbs by the shoulders and turned him, pushed him away. "Go. Take a shower."

By the time he came down, Tony had water boiling and a crude sauce bubbling on the stove. As he chopped olives, he told Gibbs a little bit about Abby's new neighbors, and any other lame gossip he could think of just to hear the sound of his own voice. Gibbs settled at the kitchen table and seemed to be listening but didn't respond. He ate everything Tony put in front of him.

"That was good, Tony. Thanks." Gibbs pushed his plate away, met Tony's eyes. "I didn't know you could cook."

Tony shrugged. "Everyone can make something. Gibbs—"

"I don't have that many friends, Tony. Not so many that I can afford to lose them." He rubbed his hands over his face, and turned his chair so he was against the wall, leaned back so that he was facing Tony.

"This friend, how'd he die?"

Gibbs said simply, "Car accident. All of fucking Desert Storm behind us and he dies in a car accident. But there it is. I only know because I was supposed to have dinner with him tomorrow night and his secretary called. He died on Monday."

Tony wanted to _touch_ him, felt the compulsion, knew that Gibbs would feel better if he did. Knew also that he could not touch him now, not now. He pulled his hands from where they rested on the table, saw Gibbs' eyes flick down to them, but before he could tense, Tony leaned back in his own chair, pushed back, putting a little more distance between them and asked, "Tell me about him?"

And Gibbs talked. The friend had been Gibbs' platoon commander, a lieutenant when Gibbs served under him in Desert Storm. He was at Quantico now, still serving, now as the commandant of the Marine Corps Officer Candidate School. He and Gibbs hadn't lost touch over the years so much as they each knew where the other was, if they needed something. Until a couple of years ago, probably right around the time Tony joined NCIS. Gibbs stopped by his office at Quantico at the tail end of a case out there and they agreed to have dinner. And they kept having dinner, every couple of months. Until now.

Gibbs talked more and whenever he seemed not to know what to say next, Tony asked questions-about their service together, details of the missions, the man's new granddaughter. Whatever, just to keep Gibbs talking. Gibbs probably hadn't talked so much the entire month and Tony admitted to himself, he was glad to hear it. Was glad to be where he was, _who_ he was. Not a feeling he had all that often.

When Gibbs finished the story of how Mark got his most recent appointment, he fell silent and this time, he seemed..._done_, somehow. Gibbs stretched out fully in his chair and rubbed his hands over his face, breathing out tiredly.

Tony rose and came around to stand close. "C'mon. Bed."

Gibbs looked up at Tony, looming over him, and made a sound, started to protest. Tony had learned something about Gibbs over the last months, however, something that gave him an edge.

Gibbs liked to be touched. He was surprisingly indifferent to how or where, too. Tony thought Gibbs would be sensitive to what even Tony would have considered traditionally feminine or male/female touching, but when they were together, his entire body was fair game: hands, feet, neck, knees, toes, the small of his back...whatever. Didn't matter. Gibbs submitted to almost any touch immediately and this softening was intensely sexy to Tony. Every time he touched Gibbs and Gibbs responded, Tony's arousal would ratchet up. Times when Tony really took his time exploring Gibbs' body, he was so hard from Gibbs' reactions that he would come within minutes of the man's hands or mouth on him. It would have been embarrassing if he didn't know that Gibbs understood, was a little abashed himself at his unconditional response to Tony.

So now, he reached down to take one of Gibbs' hands in his, wrapped his fingers loosely around Gibbs' fingers and shook a little, trying to keep his own manner light and matter of fact.

"You haven't slept much in a couple of days, even I can see that. C'mon, Gibbs. Let me...let me..." _What?_ Tony thought. _What was the end of that thought? _Unsure himself, he just said, "Let me."

Gibbs heaved himself to his feet and let Tony pull him through the door to cross the darkened living room. Gibbs didn't even object to going upstairs to sleep. Tony pushed him toward the bathroom and said, "I'm going to go close up."

Gibbs looked over at him, but didn't say anything more.

Tony didn't rush, but he didn't draw it out either. He stuck the plates in the sink, the extra sauce in the fridge. He snapped the lock on the door, turned off the lights, and returned to the bedroom.

Gibbs was standing by the bureau, pulling his t-shirt off to exchange it for a clean one. Tony couldn't help but peek at the smooth skin of Gibbs' back, but kept his mind on the task at hand. As he went to take his own turn in the bathroom, Tony turned and leaning against the door frame, stated, "I'm using your toothbrush."

Hands on his belt buckle, Gibbs looked over at Tony. It was there between them. It was a weeknight. And Gibbs was not up for sex tonight. Tony only did sex. Tony never spent the night.

But Gibbs just said, "New one in the drawer."

Tony smiled, let Gibbs see the relief and gladness that he was accepting Tony's presence here tonight. Tony wasn't sure what he would have done if Gibbs had kicked him out.

Gibbs unbuckled his belt and pulled it off as Tony ducked into the bathroom to brush his teeth, wash his face. _Never neglect your skin._ When he came out, Gibbs was in bed, and the only light was from the lamp on the nightstand next to the empty side of the bed.

Tony undressed down to his tshirt and boxers, slipped under the covers, between the sheets, cool and soft from many washings.

"Want me to work on your shoulders some more?"

"I'm okay, Tony. Go to sleep."

It wasn't very late, just turned 9:30. _21:30 said Tony's inner translator to appease a phantom Gibbs. _Tony turned out the light, stretched out on his back, careful not to touch. Gibbs was on his back, facing away.

_Fuck it, _Tony thought, and rolled onto his side, cradling Gibbs' body with his own, curling his arm around the other man's waist. Tony felt Gibbs' rib cage expand slowly and then the other man breathed out, almost a sigh, and let his own arm come to rest atop Tony's. Tony wriggled a little, just a little, to get the perfect position and then let himself drift off to sleep.

**LJG&TD**

When Tony opened his eyes the next morning, he was looking at Gibbs. Or rather, Gibbs was looking at him. The man was entirely too _awake_, blue eyes bright and piercing. Tony was half asleep, not dead, so he couldn't help but glance down at Gibbs' lips and back up to his eyes. His head swam as he realized that within _seconds_ his mouth and Gibbs' could be sealed together, his hand could slip into Gibbs' boxers and Tony would be holding his lover's dick. His eyes slammed shut as he tried to push the vision away.

Gibbs must have seen it all in his face, because he growled. "Don't have time, Tony. Plus it's a weekday."

_And that is not what this was about,_ Tony thought to himself. _Leave it._

To his surprise though, Gibbs leaned forward on his elbows and kissed him, lips closed but soft. Just a kiss, a single kiss, but he took his time, saying some of the things that he wouldn't say in words.

When Gibbs pulled back, it was to roll out of bed and head for the bathroom. "Taking a shower. You gonna try to find clothes in your car or are you going home?"

Tony knew he didn't have anything he needed with him and sighed. "I'm going home. See you later." The bathroom door closed on his last words and Tony couldn't help but laugh. _Bastard_.

**LJG&TD**

But Tony _didn't_ see him at work. When 0800 hours rolled around, he, McGee, and Kate were all at their desks, but Gibbs was not. Director Vance walked down the stairs to join them.

"Gibbs won't be in today. He said you all had assignments you were working on, but asked me to check in with you. Any questions?"

There were no questions. As Vance headed back up to his offices, Tony jumped up and ran after him. "Ah, Director?"

"Yes, Agent DiNozzo?" Vance glanced at him but kept walking.

Tony paced him and blurted out, "I was going to ask Gibbs—Special Agent Gibbs—for the morning off when he got here and since he isn't here and I really do need to go to this appointment and I have the personal time saved up and I'll be back this afternoon—"

"Fine, DiNozzo. You have to answer to Gibbs. _If _you think he would approve the absence, then take the time. On your head be it." With these grim words, Vance swept through the door to his secretary's office, letting the hydraulic spring close the door on Tony's face with a gentle _snick_.

Tony double-timed it back down the stairs and grabbed his gear. "See ya, kids. Back at lunchtime."

"Wait, what? Tony, where are you going?"

Tony didn't answer. He knew where Gibbs would be this morning and he'd be damned if Gibbs was going to be there alone.

**LJG&TD**

Well _alone_ wasn't quite the right word. Unaccompanied, maybe. Gibbs' friend had been an important man and pretty obviously, a well liked one. The funeral was a mob scene. Tony had gone back to his apartment to change into a dark suit and find out the actual time of the funeral and had entered the cemetery, joined the ranks of people in the back, just in time. He shifted a little so he could see the people gathered closest to the casket, but otherwise didn't try to get closer. He could pick out the Colonel's wife, he thought; an older relative, a young family standing nearby. There was a small group of men, most in dress uniforms but some in dark suits, stepping back from where they had carried the casket. Gibbs was among their number. Tony hadn't seen Gibbs in a suit since Pacci's funeral, and even then, just in a picture Abby sent him with her phone, what with his being on stakeout and all.

Gibbs looked good. Stoic, as always, but not cold. Gibbs always listened, was attentive to the world around him, and that translated—through body language and the curiosity in his gaze, mostly—to an unusual, but effective, way with people. He had a cop's eyes, and his curiosity was largely due to a belief that many people were up to no good. Even when not on the job, he scanned routinely for anything out of place. As Gibbs listened to the sermon, he let his eyes roam and it wasn't long before his eyes locked on Tony's.

Tony smiled in acknowledgement, widening his stance a little. Gibbs looked pleased for just long enough for Tony to register it before his brows drew down and he glared. _Whoops. Caught playing hooky_, Tony figured. Seemed wrong to grin and stick his tongue out at a funeral, so he settled for a small smirk. _He might get in trouble, but it was worth it. Gibbs wasn't going to this funeral friend-less._

When the service was over and people started walking away or around, Gibbs crossed the lawn straight to Tony.

"Why aren't you at work?" He demanded. "I left orders—"

"I had something I needed to do. I took half a personal day."

"Tony," Gibbs growled, "it wasn't _optional_, when I get back, I want you—"

"Gibbs, there is nothing that wouldn't wait until Monday—"

"Not your decision."

"I had something I needed to do. I had the time. I took—"

"What? What did you need to do? Be _here_? Because I didn't—"

"Gibbs, I—"

Their quiet but fierce argument was interrupted by the arrival of the Colonel's wife. "Jethro, thank you for the offer, but I wanted you to know that I can ride back to the house with Matthew. I'll see you there, of course." She smiled and pressed Gibbs' arm, leaning in to him and bumping shoulders with him almost playfully. She seemed tired and sad, Tony thought, but not defeated, and her smile, though small, was genuine. "Hello," she said to Tony, "I'm Miranda Langevin. Thank you for coming." Her smile widened and she looked at Gibbs. "Jethro, is this your Agent DiNozzo?"

Tony answered for him, reaching out to shake her hand, "I _am_ his Agent DiNozzo, ma'am. It is a pleasure to meet you. I am very sorry for your loss."

Miranda Langevin looked up at him and smiled a little more as she shook his hand. "Thank you, Agent DiNozzo—"

"Tony, please."

"Tony. We have heard a lot about you from Jethro. And I'm glad," she shot a sideways glance at Gibbs, "that he had a friend here. From the crowd, you can see that my husband knew a lot of people, but true friendship is precious. Not always easy to find, or keep. I'm glad my husband had Jethro's. And I'm glad _he_ has yours." She stepped back, touching Gibbs arm one last time. "I'll see you at the house, Jethro. Tony, you are welcome if you—"

"He's _busy_, Miranda, but thank you." That earned him a tiny laugh from Miranda and she waved a little at Tony before she turned and walked away.

"Well, boss, it has been nice—" Tony started walking backwards away from Gibbs, back toward the parking lot, knowing that Gibbs would likely follow the small crowd of friends and family moving as a group in the other direction.

"Tony…" Tony turned and moved a little quicker.

"Sorry, boss, can't stay—"

"Tony!" Tony stopped but didn't turn around. "_Tony_."

He turned around.

Gibbs gave him a short nod of acknowledgement. "Thanks."

"No problem."

"Get your ass back to work."

"On it, boss." And Tony started jogging toward the cars.

**LJG&TD**

One last stop before going back to the Navy Yard. One last _after_ going back to his apartment to change _again. _

He winced as he walked through the door and glanced nervously down at his feet as if the slight tackiness was going to leap up and ruin the Italian leather. _It is such a cliche—grouchy, loner cop having lunch in the same seedy bar every day. _

He swiped a fry from the grouchy, loner cop before setting into the seat across from him, only slightly worried about what might be getting on the seat of his pants.

"Fornell, what do you see in this place?"

Fornell glanced up and pulled his plate closer with one hand, keeping the newspaper up and ready to read in the other. His eyes flicked back to it even as he growled. "Dinotzo."

Tony waited until the other man's eyes came back to his before grinning and reaching for another fry. Fornell slapped his hand away. "What do you want?"

"I was just passing by. Looked in the window and there you were. Seemed...unfriendly," Tony glanced at the plate of fries hopefully, "to not come in and say hello."

"Is that right?"

"Yeah. A little sad actually, to find you sitting here alone. Like you didn't have a friend in the world. At least you aren't drinking alone. Then you'll really have something to worry about. If you go out drinking tonight, Fornell, make sure you buddy up, okay?"

Fornell's brows were furrowed and he looked a little confused. Seeing his moment, Tony grabbed a few fries as he hightailed it out of the bar.

**LJG&TD**

At the buzzing in his pocket, Abby looked over at him, whites of her eyes gleaming in the dark theater. Tony stretched out in his seat so he could fish for the phone in his pocket. He turned it toward her so they could both read the flashing "Gibbs" on the screen. "Be right back," he whispered and, crouching low, snuck out of the movie theater. He pressed "talk" on the fifth ring and hurried out into the lobby.

"Yeah, boss." Tony didn't get an answer though. Instead he heard sounds that he finally deciphered as fingers and thumbs moving over the speaker of the phone and then beeps that told him Gibbs was trying to type something.

"Fornell!" He heard Gibbs yell and moved the phone away from his ear. "I am typing but there aren't any words showing up! I don't think my phone does this text thing." His last sentence was mumbled and he sounded irritated. Tony smiled.

"Gibbs!" He spoke loudly into the phone. "Gibbs!" The background noise ceased.

"Hello?" Gibbs.

"Gibbs, you called me instead of texting me."

"Aw, hell. I told Fornell my phone didn't text."

"Your phone does text. I'll show you."

"Nah, that's okay. I don't think I wanna know."

"So...what do you need?"

"Oh, yeah. I...I just wanted to say thanks. Again."

"Oh. Okay. You're welcome, I guess."

This was Gibbs' cue to hang up without saying goodbye.

But he didn't.

"Gibbs?"

"See you tomorrow?" Low, but not whispered.

Tony swallowed before he answered. "You are being social tonight. Usually that means you need a night to work on the boat. Sunday?"

Gibbs laughed and Tony could almost see him run his hand through his hair. "Yeah, okay. Sunday."

"Night, Gibbs."

Tony smiled when he heard the click of the line going dead.

**LJG&TD**

Tony moaned at the feel of warm lips moving over his throat, down his neck, across his shoulder. Equally warm hands stripped him of t-shirt and boxers, and a thigh pushed between his legs even as he felt the full length of Gibbs' naked body come to rest on top of his.

"_Jesus_, Gibbs...ohhh..._fuck_—" Gibbs hand held his jaw and his mouth moved with urgency over Tony's. Gibbs' mouth was desperate and hungry, and Tony, ready to be on top of his partner, to _grind_ hard against the already sweaty man against him, shifted and _pushed_ to flip over...and, found himself nowhere. Flat on his back still and now with his arms pinned at his sides.

"We better work on your grappling too, DiNozzo."

Hot breath at Tony's ear, the gravel in Gibbs' laughing growl made him shiver. Or was it Gibbs' mouth moving down his body to nip and suck at his nipples? Was it Gibbs' hands, releasing Tony's wrists only to push his legs wide as he rose up in the dark of Tony's bedroom, balancing on one hand as he opened the bottle and slicked his cock the way he had learned, letting Tony listen and beg, knowing it turned Tony on more? Gibbs' arm released and he dropped flush against Tony again and Tony was moaning and reaching for his mouth even as Gibbs rolled his hips over and again, small round movements that burned and hummed. Or was that Tony? Murmuring, moaning, _please Gibbs please Gibbs please._ _More. Now._

Over Tony, around Tony, getting closer and closer until he was pressing in, just a little and then more and deeper until Tony was filled and so close to ecstasy that he drove his body up up onto the other man's but he should have known he wouldn't have to go all the way there because Gibbs met him more than halfway, thrusting down in a surge and a rush, getting the angle _just right_ and Tony didn't recognize his own voice saying _now, Gibbs, now, please oh fuck oh fuck. Oh, fuck...me…_

And the hot rush of come against his stomach and in his ass and _Jesus what did he do to deserve this?_ He was lost in the bliss and aftershocks even as the only parts of his body he could really _feel_ anymore were his hands, woven and locked in Gibbs', hard, where Gibbs had put them just before they came.

Gibbs slipped out of bed and Tony wanted to protest his leaving. He always left. No, that was him, Tony. _He_ always left. Gibbs just got up early. He was still _there_ when Tony went looking. Tony roused again as Gibbs cleaned things up and then slipped into bed against him.

"Hi." Gibbs pressed close and kissed Tony.

Tony gave himself over to the kiss, drawing it out, slipping his tongue into Gibbs mouth. Gibbs made a sound of approval and softened, let Tony take the lead.

"Hi." Tony finally answered, pulling back a little. "Thought I was coming over tonight?"

"Didn't want to wait." Gibbs threw an arm across him, lay close enough that Tony could feel him breathing on his ear and neck. He wouldn't lay on Tony's chest, and Tony hadn't tried the other way around. Seemed girly. But sometimes he wanted to. Gibbs would get close, as close as humanly possible, even though the combined heat of their bodies would drive them apart once they were asleep. Sometimes sweaty discomfort wasn't enough to keep Gibbs away, though, and Tony would wake up with the other man draped all over him.

Tony turned slightly and kissed what was in reach, Gibbs' forehead.

"What're you doing?" Gibbs protested.

"It was all of you I could reach." Tony whispered, then added, with a whine. "No sleeping over."

Gibbs was half asleep already. "That was your rule, not mine." He nuzzled closer still, pressed his lips to the side of Tony's neck and his thumb traced tiny curves against Tony's chest. "You did it first, anyway."

"But we didn't have sex."

"Doesn't matter."

"But—"

"Shhhh." Gibbs stretched up just enough to stop Tony's words with his mouth. "Shhhhh. I'm trying to sleep."


	10. Chapter 10: Tony Goes Camping

A/N: I did hard things today. And they worked out. So to celebrate, I bought blueberries and grapes (in the winter!) and am making brownies. Also I am posting this chapter. Cause I want to. Then I might start writing another one. And I'm going to bookclub. So there. (hee hee!) 1/16/13 Sqs.

* * *

_After_—because they hadn't spent many evenings together yet that they had been able to keep their hands off each other—Tony got up and did his nighttime thing: brushed his teeth, washed his face, cleaned up. Gibbs was all but asleep when he came out of the bathroom, stretched out on his side facing Tony. When he didn't feel the dip of the mattress and the expected press of the other man's body alongside his, he opened his eyes a little. Tony stood in the doorway of the bathroom, leaning against the jamb, watching him sleep.

"What?" Gibbs' voice was hoarse with fatigue, even to his own ears.

"Wondered if you wanted to go hiking with me tomorrow, camp out a night, maybe two." It was Friday night, with a whole three-day weekend ahead of them.

Gibbs didn't betray his sudden wakefulness by tensing or opening his eyes further.

"Thought I'd work on the boat, maybe out back if it was nice."

"Well, this would be _instead_ of that." Tony's teasing didn't rise to the level of a joke but still kept things light.

"Not much of a camper, Tony." Tony didn't respond immediately to this, but continued to watch his...lover. Gibbs still squirmed when that word entered his mind, not because he was uncomfortable that Tony was a man—although he did still think about that, hard—but because he really didn't want to get into Love Territory.

"So that's a no?"

Forced to it, Gibbs reminded himself that he was a bastard, that he didn't do anything he didn't want to do, and answered. "Fraid so."

"Alright." Tony started toward him. Jethro wondered if he would get the cold shoulder tonight, but instead of slipping into his side of the bed, Tony walked around to Jethro's.

"What are you doing?" Gibbs said. He had flipped on his back so he could watch what Tony was doing.

"Getting into bed." Tony answered and then crawled into his, Jethro's side, climbing over him clumsily and poking him with his elbows and pushing his hands in sensitive spots and sticking his nose in Gibbs' neck until Gibbs laughed and tried to shove him off to the side. Tony clung like a limpet and Gibbs had to resort to stealth tactics until Tony was finally on his own side of the bed. Gibbs lay back, breathing heavy and still laughing a little. Tony, too, was on his back, smiling. He turned his head on his pillow to look at Jethro, catching his profile for only a few seconds before Gibbs leaned up on his side, propping his hand on his elbow, to look down on his bedmate.

Tony grinned up at him. "You gonna kiss me or what?"

"Yeah," Gibbs huffed out one last little laugh before leaning forward and growling, against Tony's lips, "why not?"

**LJG&TD**

Everything seemed normal the next day. After an early breakfast, Tony made some calls, and called down to the basement around ten to let Jethro know he was leaving.

"I've gotta go home to get gear and more clothes, Gibbs. See you later!" Gibbs came out round the boat and stood at the bottom of the stairs, looking up at Tony.

"Have fun."

Tony's trademark grin was the last thing Gibbs saw before Tony waved and was gone.

**LJG&TD**

The quiet weekend suited Gibbs. He indulged and worked on the boat all Saturday. Despite the beautiful weather, he stayed in the cool dim light of the basement, listening to the baseball game sometimes, sometimes just working in the quiet. Hours passed without his marking them. When he got hungry, he ate. At some point, he checked his watch and noticing it was after 7, poured himself a bourbon. He slept when he was tired, under the boat, and when he woke up at 3, he kept working. At 5, he went to sleep again, this time on the couch, and woke to the sun streaming in the living room windows. He ran. He mowed the lawn. Had a sandwich. Went back to the basement. It was how he had lived, on and off depending on wives and cases and a few other demands on his time, for years. It was reassuring and reliable and good. It felt good.

He started listening for Tony around 4 on Sunday. Figured one night'd be more than enough. It's not like it mattered though. Tony and he had started spending weekends together, mostly, but not _every_ weekend. He'd see him Tuesday, if not before. He was at a decent stopping place on the boat, wondered what he should begin next. He was walking around the boat and considering the possibilities when he heard the front door open.

Gibbs was shocked, truly shocked, at how everything in his body tightened, how glad he was that Tony was back. _Woods were no place for him, what if something happened out there? No easy way to get help, for Gibbs to get to him. _He strode to the steps, took them two at a time, almost collided with the man at the head of the stairs.

"Whoa there, cowboy. What's the rush, Jethro!?" Fornell jumped back out of the way.

Gibbs didn't answer, just shook the hand Fornell held out. "What do you need, Tobias?"

"Well," Fornell said calmly, "I owed you a bottle of the good stuff for loaning me your best undercover agent last month. Thought I'd pay up, maybe see if you wanted to grab a burger."

Gibbs realized that the timing was pretty good actually, ruthlessly ignored his disappointment, and accepted the proffered bottle with a grin. "How does steak sound?"

**LJG&TD**

Fornell left around midnight and Gibbs spent the night on the couch. When he woke in the morning, his eye fell on his cell phone, on the hall table where he left it. Should he call Tony, see when he was coming back? If he did that, though, Tony would think that it was work-related and Gibbs didn't want to bother him when he should be enjoying himself. Tony'd be back when he was back and that was that.

Gibbs needed food for the week, to gas up the car, so he ran errands in the morning. He picked up enough food so that he could feed Tony dinner if he was back tonight. _Good thing too_ he thought with savage satisfaction that the man was _finally back_, because when he pulled into the driveway, Tony was there, just pulling a duffle bag out of the back of the car, and slamming the trunk. Tony looked up and smiled at Gibbs as he waited for him, bag slung over his shoulder.

Gibbs looked him over as he parked and came around the truck, not bothering with the groceries yet. Tony's jeans were streaked with mud and grass, ripped a little in one knee, and his t-shirt was just as dirty. He hadn't shaved since he left obviously, and just as obviously hadn't had a shower. His teeth gleamed white in the tanned, also dirty, face and Gibbs turned and went back for groceries just to keep from grabbing him and putting his sudden desire on very public display.

Tony's smile faded, but he dropped his bag and came over to help, standing close as he reached into the bed for a couple bags. "Miss me?" He said, shooting a sideways glance at Gibbs.

Tony didn't seem to be waiting for an answer, or like the answer was important to him, but Gibbs knew better. Had always known better. Heaving four bags in his arms, he faced Tony and then headed for the house saying clearly, "Yep," and just catching the smile that reappeared on Tony's face.

"Yep you missed me? Or yep, 'that'll do, pig?'"

Gibbs didn't reply, recognizing a movie quote when he heard one, and knowing that Tony was fishing for more from him. The younger man was bounding up the steps behind him and the two of them crowded into the house carrying all the bags. And before Gibbs could turn or put the bags down or anything, Tony's hands spun him around and his mouth covered Gibbs'. _Oh jesus_. His mouth was so hot, and Gibbs felt like he had never wanted anyone as much as he wanted Tony in that moment. Gibbs dropped the bags and quick pushed his hands under Tony's shirt, moaning as he felt the gritty skin-dirty and probably sweaty too—under his hands and the urgent press of Tony's body.

"God, Gibbs, I...I...just—"

Their mouths were sealed together and the kiss was sloppy and hungry and just beyond sexy. Gibbs tore away and mouthed his way down the bristly face and neck, unbearably turned on by the roughness, the smell. The smell. He pushed Tony away, hard, but didn't let go the grip he had on his shoulders.

Tony reached out for him, trying to get close again but stopped when Gibbs held him at arms length. "What?" he asked, confused.

"You _smell_." Gibbs accused.

"Well, I haven't had a shower in two days, Gibbs. Anyone would smell. I borrowed some of Hank's deodorant though. I shouldn't smell too bad," his voice lowered, softened, "but I would be glad for a shower. Care to join me? Jethro?" He looked at Gibbs with eyes already cloudy with passion, knowing that using Gibbs' given name was a trigger, and slowly, but relentlessly, pushed himself forward, overcoming the considerable resistance in Gibbs' arms, and plastered his body against Gibbs'.

Gibbs let Tony's warm body come to rest against his, despite the fact that he _smelled like another man_, drank in the sexy sounds coming from his mouth as Gibbs started in on his neck again. Gibbs' cock had been hard since he had laid eyes on Tony but as Gibbs sucked brutally at Tony's collarbone, the combination of Tony's cry of pleasure pain and the satisfaction of marking the other man had Gibbs thrusting his hand down his own pants to grab his cock at the base, squeezing to stop from coming.

"Gibbs?"

Gibbs didn't answer, too deep in his own desire to form coherent sentences, even brief ones to order Tony up the stairs to bed. Instead, he felt something shift inside of him, felt the same energy that helped lead him in an investigation snap into place, felt the calm that came with knowing what to do.

Gibbs smiled at little at Tony, and Tony's eyes widened at that, before slamming shut as Gibbs reached out and held the other man's face with his palm, stroking his bristly cheek with his thumb. He pulled his hand out of his pants, slipped it back under Tony's shirt to rest against the slim bare waist.

"_Jethro?_" This time a whisper, a giving in. Gibbs pushed the younger man back a few feet, stepped over and through the bags at his feet, and then reached out to pull Tony's tshirt over his head. He shucked his own next. Tony toed off his shoes and Gibbs did the same. They stood there looking at each other, both in jeans but otherwise naked from the waist up. Gibbs watched his own hands reach for Tony, stroke up his chest, press and play with his taut nipples. Tony's head dropped back and his arms were open at his sides. Gibbs stroked down the smooth, soft skin of his inner arm with the rough pads of his fingers. Tony shuddered, but never took his eyes off Gibbs'. And then Gibbs fingers flicked open the top button on Tony's jeans. And the others—_why didn't the man have a zipper like everyone else— _opened just as easily and Gibbs found Tony's cock with his palm even as he slanted his mouth over the other man's again. He pulled and pulled, long hard strokes up and the press of fingers at the base and behind Tony's balls and Gibbs' drank in Tony's moans, the sounds that Tony made _because of him_. With his left hand, Gibbs reached up to cup the back of Tony's head, fingers threaded through his hair and pulled so that his lips licked and mouthed from the sweet fullness of Tony's lower lip down the salty indentation between lip and chin. Down, down the bristly curve of the man's neck and Adam's apple to the hollow of his throat, across his collarbones, first to the right then to the left, and the whole time Tony's breath shuddered, harsh with desire, and his body bowed against Gibbs. With his mouth, Gibbs followed the arc of Tony's body down even as his touch on Tony's cock stayed rhythmic and just this side of pain. When he bit lightly and then sucked at Tony's nipple, he lifted his head long enough to order, "Talk."

He shifted upright suddenly, to push Tony down onto the old rag rug in the living room. Hand still deep in Tony's pants, he hovered over the younger man. "Understand, Tony? Talk to me, —" _fuck fuck fuck he had almost called him something else babe or boy and oh my god what was happening to him? _ The rush of panicky thoughts made him moan and press his own face briefly against Tony's neck, his own breath coming in sobs almost.

Tony, overwhelmed by the sexy onslaught and rejoicing in how out of control his very in-control lover was, pushed aside the haze of arousal when he heard the sad sound. Gibbs face pushed _hard_ into his neck and shoulder. His hand was still on Tony's cock, firm but unmoving. Tony kept his body relaxed and pliant beneath Gibbs, his body and left arm immobilized by the other man's weight, but reached up with his free right hand to stroke the back of Gibbs' head, down his neck and soothed in long soft strokes down the older man's spine, first his fingertips and then with the nail of his thumb.

And now Gibbs shuddered. Gibbs' repeated himself, but somehow the word didn't feel quite like an order any more. A request? A supplication? Whatever it was, it was like the man knew the word inscribed on the scroll in his heart. _Tony thought vaguely of the Lord of the Rings, was he a golem then? Animated by a single word? Truth? Speak? _The Lord of the Rings was one of the few books Tony had cherished as a boy, reading it over and over again, until the mythology of the world became his second home, displaced later by cinematic locales but never truly forgotten.

"_Talk."_

"Gibbs…" Tony wasn't sure what to say, but the need to comfort his lover was a compulsion and perhaps there was no right thing to say because at the sound of Tony's voice, Gibbs hand started moving again, reminding Tony of his own desperate need for his touch. Gibbs' mouth went back to Tony's chest, kissing and toying with his nipples and kissing anywhere else he wanted. Tony moaned and thrust his hips up at Gibbs. Gibbs obviously liked the way his body covered the younger man's and he liked hearing Tony's voice. As the silence lengthened, Gibbs nipped demandingly and his hand slowed. Tony tried again. "I missed you, okay? I missed you. Wish you had come with me. I wanted to sleep with you. You need to eat more vegetables. What do you want me to sa—_oh fuck oh jesus damn Jethro don't stop don't stop please don't stop."_

Gibbs had kissed now down the soft skin of the hard planes of Tony's stomach and then mimicked Tony that first time. He yanked Tony's pants down to his knees and pushed until the man writhing under him kicked them off. He kissed along the inner seam of Tony's leg, licked with long swipes up, mouthed his balls and then finally rose up over Tony to take the head of his cock in his mouth. Tony was beyond words now, but Gibbs demanded one more. Holding Tony's cock with his hand, he pulled off to say, softly, "_Mine_." And waited.

Three things happened then, almost simultaneously. Tony's body arced again, head falling back even as his hips bucked forward. Gibbs went down on him again, taking them both all the way down, deep. Tony's moan of agreement hung in the air like a promise.

"_Yours."_

* * *

I would love to know what you think. Thanks! Sqs.


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